


Alienation

by aronnaxs



Category: Alien (1979), Alien Series, XCOM (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: 1960s, Chestbursters (Alien), Crossover, Facehuggers (Alien), Gen, Science Fiction, Xenomorphs (Alien), cute turtleneck-wearing cia agents, thats not a tag?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-03-25 19:17:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13841283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aronnaxs/pseuds/aronnaxs
Summary: CIA agent William Carter never bargained on combatting an alien invasion. He certainly never bargained on combatting two. [The Bureau XCOM Declassified/Alien crossover]





	1. Grand Central

**Author's Note:**

> Where is the love for this game??? I’ve just finished playing it and I’ve been shocked at the amount of negative reviews. I loved it start to finish, every second. The story was great, the characters and the gameplay. I really wanted to write fanfic but couldn’t think of much to add so decided to do a crossover with one of my beloved franchises, Alien. Hope you enjoy it as much as I love writing it c:

Grand Central Terminal has been overrun. That is nothing new. Crowds and crowds have condensed in a thick mass outside the building. The sidewalk heaves with them, pushing, shoving, trying to get to their station before the trains depart. A woman stumbles and a man in a dark coat picks her up again. A young boy is walking around and around in circles, shouting for his papa. Lines of suits keep checking their watches, like some bizarre mating ritual amongst the flock. Everyone seems to have somewhere to be, but no one is making any progress at being there.

William Carter and his men have been watching this scene for about five minutes. It has not changed in that time. Anyone else might have thought this was just a snapshot of New York City in rush hour. Carter knows better. He has seen this before - Philadelphia, Great Falls, Pima. It is the same all across the States, and getting worse by the hour. These people will never get to their destinations. They have succumbed to the Sleepwalker virus, eating away at their brains, making them repeat the same instant again and again and again and again.

Carter’s duty is not to them right now, though. They have bigger problems. 

Raoul Etienne and Guy Todd follow him down Park Avenue, heading towards the station. Although no enemies are in sight at the moment, they keep ducking behind the abandoned cars. Stains of black goo and char marks tell them all they need to know. Not long ago, this place was a battleground. Another war on home turf, unlike anything Carter thought he would ever have to experience. 

He peers above the yellow taxicab and along the wide street. The white colonnade facade of the station still stands, though peppered with more holes than he remembers. The tracker in Carter’s hand beeps. That is the way they have to go. Carter knows that already. He had been the one to set out the motions for the team before. Now, they are gone, vanished without a trace of their mission. Carter is determined to find them. 

“Looks like we’re gonna have to go through those walkers, boss,” Todd says at his side. 

“They won't give us any trouble,” Carter assures. It is not the first time he has dealt with Sleepwalkers. They have never been hostile. All they do is repeat their last action before the infection took them over. It is ugly to watch, as they are essentially stuck in the prison of their own bodies, but they are not dangerous. 

Nevertheless, he grips his laser pulse rifle as they come out of cover. The Sleepwalkers might be alright, but there are other perils waiting for them. He guides his men down the wrecked street, stepping around pieces of cars, bashed into bits like children’s toys. Glass crunches loudly beneath their feet where someone has been thrown through a windshield. Every now and then, they pass a hand sticking plaintively out of the debris. Carter doesn’t look. He keeps his eyes ahead, on the entrance to the Terminal, and further afield, into the New York skyline. The looming dark shape of the alien guns rise amongst the crowded buildings, positioned atop various high-rises. Their slender funnels aim into the clouds, silent for now. That unsettles Carter. His squad had been sent out to shut them down. Obviously, they have. So why didn’t they request immediate evac after doing so? How did they get themselves lost? 

Carter and his men are getting nearer the Sleepwalkers. Just as Carter thought, they meander round them, trapped in their own worlds. That kid is still screaming for his father, and the sound is ear-splitting. Soon, he will draw the Outsiders to them, and those here will be finished off, without even a single memory of their lives before.

He, Etienne and Todd climb the steps and pass into the main concourse. Ticket-vendors are selling passes like it is any normal day, only the long, winding queues aren’t moving. The same couple stay at the front, receiving their ticket, giving it back, receiving it again. The people behind keep tapping their feet. Back and forth, passengers run, dragging their suitcases and possessions. They are stuck in an endless loop of trying to escape. It is too late. The Outsiders are already here, and soon, they will flood through the doors once again.

Carter checks the tracker. Its signal is directing them further down. It isn’t what he expected. Grand Central was only meant to be a way through - convenient cover before Evora’s team reached the guns. But, sure enough, there is something transmitting from below them, in what seems like the lower railway tracks. Carter hesitates next to the central information point. “Looks like we’re gonna be staying here a little longer than we thought,” he says. 

“What were they doing here?” Todd asks, checking the tracker. 

“I don’t know. Maybe they got cornered. Either way, I’m having words with Evora when we find him. Come on, we’re going down.”

Carter takes them off the frantic ants’ nest of the main concourse, and into the arched walkways that lead down. Helpful signs point the right direction. The entire station is a labyrinth, made even worse because of the Sleepwalkers strolling about and blocking the paths. Carter pushes through, with one eye on the arrows to the lower levels and one eye on the tracker. It is pulsing, further, further, further down. He can’t help but think they are being led on a wild goose chase. Evora is a smart man, he wouldn’t have lost himself so deeply in this maze without good reason.

They reach the dining concourse which is still radiating with the scent of food, despite what is happening above them. Waiters flit about the tables from the various stalls and central buffet. The long room is full of the sound of clinking cutlery and glasses. If he didn’t know any different, Carter would have thought that it was any other normal day. But each person he passes has sickening streaks of black goo dripping from their eyes and mouths. The same plates are continuously being served, and the people keep eating the same things. “Poor bastards,” Todd comments. “Having to eat tomato soup for the rest of their lives.”

“Ignore them,” Carter says abruptly. “This way.”

He heads towards the tracks. They are almost out of the hall when something moves in the ranks of the walkers. A man in a train driver’s uniform emerges. His hand reaches back and suddenly, there is a pistol pointing at Carter’s head. Etienne and Todd immediately push in front of him, guns drawn. “Drop it, pal,” Todd orders. “Do it now.”

Carter notices how much the man’s hand is shaking. Sweat is dribbling into his eyes, which are already betraying hints of that ugly infection. “Who the hell are you?” he asks. 

“We don’t mean any harm,” Carter says. “We’re here to find three men. Have you seen anyone come this way?”

“I might have.” He still hasn’t lowered the pistol. He clings to it like it is his only lifeline. Here, amongst all this sickness, threatened with the Outsiders so close, probably it is. Carter doesn’t want him to think they are another danger on top of that. He eases in front of Etienne and Todd, getting them to drop their laser pulse rifles. The driver hesitates. His eyes fall on the Venn Brace about Carter’s wrist, and the wires connecting it to his tactical backpack. The sight only inflames his hostility more. “Are you with them?” he accuses. “Are you part of that - alien invasion?”

“No. We’re trying to fight it off. This is -“ Carter pauses. This man will be down for the count soon, but who knows what he will remember if he ever wakes up again. “This is one of our techniques. Now, please, these three men. Did you see them?”

Seeing that they aren’t going to hurt him (or maybe resigning himself to how, if they are aliens, that measly pistol won’t do a thing), the driver re-holsters the weapon. He sighs. “They were here about - maybe a day ago, I don’t know anymore. I’ve been down here for much longer than that, hiding from these creatures. I tried to get to them but they were on the run from the aliens, and they were talking about finding some of the missing people here.” 

That explains it a little. Carter knew that they wouldn’t have come here without a reason. Even if Evora had broken his orders by taking on another mission. They were meant to get to the guns, turn them off, and get out again. Not search about for missing people. “Did you see where they went?”

“They went... they went to the tracks. I haven’t seen them since then. I should have warned them. I should have told them not to go down there.”

“Down where?”

“Down the tunnel.” The man shudders. His face has suddenly turned a shade paler. “There’s something down there. The stewards used to tell us there was something weird in that tunnel, even before this invasion - or whatever the hell it is - started, but we never believed them. But now, sometimes, I hear it - I hear it in the walls - in the tunnels - it’s getting closer all the time -“

The man is going mad. Carter resists the urge to tell him to get a hold of himself. “Just hold tight here. We’re gonna find -“

“I don’t want to be another missing person,” the driver babbles. “Too many people go missing here, and it’s not this black goo that’s doing it, and it’s not the aliens. It’s something else. Oh my god, it’s something else -“

Carter sees Etienne glance at Todd. He doesn’t want to indulge the man any more in his panic, and he’s starting to think he’s not going to get any more out of him anyway. “Just stay here,” he repeats. “You’ll be fine. How many other survivors are there?”

“I don’t know - I don’t - I think I’m the only one.”

Carter knows it is cruel but he is almost glad. He can’t have word getting out of ‘something else’ prowling alongside the Outsiders. “We’ll try and find you on our way out. You’ve done well to live this far, you can manage an hour or so more.”

He nods, resigned to his miserable fate. “I only hope that you make it out, sir. There’s things here that no man was ever meant to see.”

Tell me about it, Carter thinks. 

They leave the man with his pistol. His quiet sobs begin to fade as they get further away, blending in with the monotonous drones of the Sleepwalkers. Carter does not look back. They have a job to do, and now, they have a clearer direction. But he can feel the tension radiating off Etienne and Todd, driven higher by the survivor’s frantic rant. He would say something, but he’s not the comforting type.

The darkness seems to get deeper the lower down they roam. The lights are dimmer, and every now and then, something heavy will shift on the street above and make them flicker into black. Carter doesn’t have to imagine what is making the earth shake. He has seen it before - the massive alien structures corroding human cities and towns, replacing fields and urban settlements with their metallic fortresses and communications towers. Just like at Groom Range, where this all began, they are building. They are building for their reign of total domination. Carter refuses to be a pawn, or a slave, to their plans.

The subway tracks are eerily empty, without even a sleepwalker hanging around. Trains still wait expectantly at the platform. Carter glances through the windows as they pass. Some have been shattered and blood clings to the spidery cracks. Black goo is spattered up the inner sides of the doors, like someone has slammed them shut on one of those damn Silacoids - the amorphous blobs that have tried to absorb Carter’s squad more than once. 

“Do you think that survivor meant Commander Evora went down the tracks?” Todd asks, drawing his attention away. He is aiming his torch into the gloom. That dark tunnel could be hiding a hundred enemies. 

“I can’t see any other way,” Carter replies. 

“We’re gonna go down - there?”

“I hope you gentlemen aren’t afraid of the dark.”

Carter is about to hop down when there is sudden movement along the platform. Two Outsiders emerge from the train on the other set of tracks. Carter immediately hides behind one of the pillars. Todd and Etienne do the same. He chastises himself for not having noticed them before. They are not one of the higher order - only the regular alien soldiers, without even the shield that the tougher enemies have - but if they had spotted Carter’s team, their fire could have raised the alarm. Carter wants to get in and out with minimal fighting, for once. 

Still, he keeps his finger hovering over the trigger of the rifle. Gradually, he turns his head so he can see down the platform. The two Outsiders seem to be searching for survivors. Their light armour clinks on the ground as they roam up and down the stalled train. Another alien hurries to join them - a grey Sectoid this time, scampering like a bizarre little monkey at their feet. Its long limbs allow it to crawl up the side of the vehicle and pull itself through the broken windows. It keeps coming out with trinkets in its fingers - jewellery, a watch, a couple of hats, eye-glasses... The Outsiders aren’t pleased with what it brings, and keep sending it back in. Carter watches this bizarre ritual with a frown. As far as he can tell, the Sectoids are at the bottom of the pile of alien invaders, stretching all the way up to their elite commanders and further to that mysterious entity the scientists are calling Origin. It is unsettling to know how much structured hierarchy there is between them all. It reminds him how they are fighting an entire race.

Eventually, the Sectoid comes back with something his superiors like. They stop and pick up the offering, turning it in their hands. Carter peers closer. He has to stop himself from swearing aloud. It is Evora’s ammo pack. He can make out the ‘US army’ print stamped on it. They’re going the right way to finding them. But it seems they’re not the only ones on the hunt anymore.

Carter waits until the Outsiders and their little dog have left again, proud of their new trophy. Then, when the platform falls into eerie silence once more, he ducks out of cover. “Quickly,” he whispers to Todd and Etienne. This time, they waste no time before dropping down onto the tracks. Their torches are barely enough to scatter the darkness in the tunnel. On all sides, the shadows press in, threatening to overwhelm the flashlights’ circles of illumination. “Keep close,” Carter orders.

Carter knows his men have already been through a lot - and seen a lot - but this black passageway seems to be playing with their minds. He can hear their harsh breathing right behind him, getting heavier the further they plunge. He cannot help thinking of the things the frantic train driver had told them. There is something in those tunnels - something else. What the hell else they can be faced with Carter isn’t sure. He has already had to adjust himself to the reality of this current alien invasion. It is hard to believe that he only became mixed up in it a few months before. 

It had all started when he had been tasked with delivering a mysterious briefcase to Director Faulke, the leader of the Bureau of Strategic Emergency Command. The organisation had been set up to deal with the ever-present threat of a Soviet invasion of the US, but, as it turned out, Faulke had had other ideas. A rogue military liaison had tried to gain possession of the briefcase and had shot Carter with a slug that should have been fatal, just as that weird black stuff had started to pour from her eyes and nose. Carter had passed out just as the room had filled with blinding light from the package. 

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but he had awoken with his wounds healed up, and the officer incinerated to a crisp on the floor. He had left quickly, trying to get answers, only to run straight into an alien gunship blasting through the facility. Within hours, Groom Range had been destroyed by what Carter could only assume was the Outsiders’ equivalent of a nuke, and only Faulke had survived out of the top brass. Carter had found himself recruited into the Bureau, which had been co-ordinated not just to fight off Reds, but these alien invaders too. Since then, Carter’s life had revolved around them. After a year of being trapped to a desk job, he has suddenly been thrown back into the field again. This time, he is armed with technology the scientists have reverse-engineered, like the cumbersome but devastatingly useful Venn Brace on his wrist. 

Todd and Etienne have followed him into nearly every mission. They have faced Outsiders and mutons and even Origin’s henchman, Axis. But now, the tension is creeping between them, as thick and heavy as the dirt and alien infrastructure pressing down from above. When Carter’s tracker beeps suddenly, he hears Etienne drew a sharp breath and utter a low “merde”. 

Carter angles his flashlight to look at the screen. The little dot indicating Evora’s position is still saying he is below them. “The hell -“ Todd breathes. Carter sighs. That is exactly what he was afraid of. 

“It must be a tech malfunction,” Etienne says. “What’s below us now? We’re on the subway.”

Carter puts the tracker away again. “It’s not a malfunction. That crazy bastard, what the hell was he thinking? He’ll have got himself trapped down there.”

“Down where? Commander, what -“ Todd treads carefully, unsure whether he is stumbling into any classified information. 

“There’s a lower level below the station - M42. It’s a basement where the power converters are. The Nazis targeted it in the war to try and grind the trains to a halt. It’s not on any maps, but the elevator down is still operational, if you know how to get to it.”

“Would Evora have known about it?”

“I should think so. He was stationed in New York during the war, and was involved in god knows what.”

“Do you know how to get to the elevator?”

Carter nods. He hasn’t been here before, but has heard of the labyrinth below the station, and the deep, 300-foot shaft that leads down to it. He only hopes that the Outsiders haven’t uncovered it too. “On me, gentlemen,” he says, his mind already made up. 

He leads them further into the shadows. Now, it is not only the darkness of the railway surrounding them, but the foggy darkness of classified secrets too. M42 had always been an FBI specialty, not CIA, but Carter had come across multiple references to it during deep-cover in Vladivostok, where the Trans-Siberian railway terminus held its own hidden lines and passages. Soviet agents had been working to sabotage the US’s train system and New York had been a prime target. Carter reaches back through time to remember the plans, translating them from the Russian.

The darkness seems to go on forever. Eventually, Carter finds what he is looking for. “Help me with this,” he says, and then he and Todd are tugging a vent cover from the wall. The noise it makes is deafening in the tunnel, and for a moment, they brace themselves, prepared for the Outsiders to come pouring down upon them. There is nothing. So Carter adjusts his flashlight and crawls inside. Behind him, he hears Etienne utter a plaintive, “in there?” but within seconds, he follows, preferring the tight space to the prospect of an Outsider ambush in the tunnel.

They hold their breath as they squeeze through. The ducts luckily only go one way, not confusing them with any junctions. Carter doesn’t like it any more than the other two and is glad when the exit point finally comes into sight. He eases himself out into a corridor, packed up with boxes and other containers. Cobwebs hang from the walls and dust is clouded thickly on the floor. He would think that it hadn’t been used for years, but amongst the decades of dirt, he can make out footprints. They are going to the right and round the corner. Carter lights the way with his torch.

Todd and Etienne follow diligently. Hallway after hallway blend together like some messed-up fun house. The pathetic electric-bar lights have failed completely down some, plunging them into familiar darkness. Eventually, Carter turns at a junction and sees what he has been waiting for. It is another short passage choking with abandoned storage units, but at the end is that ancient elevator system. The footprints he has been trailing finish at the closed doors.

They have to clamber over the boxes to reach it. Some fall to the floor, spilling tools and wires. Carter kicks them away and examines the shaft’s access panel. The security around it has been decimated, either by desperate survivors or by Evora and his squad before. Either way, all they have to do now is call it up, and then take the long journey down into the bowels of the station. Carter is just about to press the button when a blast pierces the wall inches from his head. “Contact! Damn it!” Todd shouts, and rolls behind the stacks of boxes.

A small team of Outsiders have somehow found them. Two peer around the junction they have just exited, providing covering fire as two more scramble into the corridor. Carter drops to his knees. Hot laser pulses sear past his shoulder. He crawls into position, damning himself again for being so careless. He knew it had been too easy for the squad to reach the elevator. But how the hell did the invaders get down here? There must be another way, somewhere he doesn’t know about -

He doesn’t dwell on it now. As the firing goes dead for a second, he peers above the boxes and takes his first shot. It slams into the Outsider on the left. It staggers out of cover, enough for Carter’s next round to take the front of its armoured face off. “Get the ones in the corridor,” he orders Todd, and to Etienne, “get that elevator up. We need to get down there quick.”

One Outsider is down already. Todd and Carter deal with the others as Etienne drags himself over to the button. Carter hears the satisfying click of it, and the first whines of the pulley system. But the thing is 300 feet below them, and it’s going to take a while to reach their floor. 

The boxes aren’t giving great cover. They keep being obliterated by the fierce laser fire, and Carter has to shift his limbs every few seconds. Todd lands an effective shot, blowing off an enemy’s chest protection, but they can’t escape the fact that they have been cornered. Maybe this is what happened to Evora. Carter is determined not to go AWOL like them, though, definitely not against this meagre team of four. He has faced far, far worse than this. 

Etienne rejoins them. Above the aching groans of the approaching elevator, he shoots at the other Outsider in cover. A return volley catches him in the wrist and he swears, but it can’t be too bad because in the next second, he has the bastard down. Another invader takes its place. More are approaching from the junction. Damn it, how many have followed them down here?

Carter fires round after round, trying not to let them enter the hallway. His other men catch a couple in the crossfire. The bodies are piling up, but more replace them. He glances behind, willing the elevator to speed up. It has to be over halfway now. It is like the Outsiders can sense their desperation. They press in, getting closer behind the tipped boxes. Carter starts to shoot them into pieces, taking down the places for cover. Once they are exposed, Todd and Etienne take them out. Carter has already lost count. Where the hell had they been hiding?

It seems to take an age but at last, the elevator grinds to a stop behind them. The shuttered doors ache as they open. There are still Outsiders intent on stopping them getting in. Carter thinks of Evora and rallies himself for the final shots. One, two, three, four enemies are routed. “Get in, now!” he calls. Etienne and Todd scramble back. Carter covers them. Finally, only one Outsider remains. It peers around the remains of the boxes, giving Carter an easy shot, but something makes him lower his weapon. 

The Outsider readies to take him down. Carter harnesses the power of the brace around his wrist and wrenches the alien into the air. He takes a sick delight in how its legs kick uselessly. He keeps it there, flailing, until Etienne and Todd are safe. Then he slams it up into the ceiling. It drops to the ground in a dead slump. 

He doesn’t breathe easy again until the elevator doors have shut behind him. That is one more battle down. Maybe a hundred still wait for them. But, right now, Carter’s biggest concern is what they might find at the bottom of this shaft. He takes a breath, looks at Todd and says, “let’s go down.”

Todd pulls back the lever. The cage gives a jerk, which isn’t very assuring. But then, slowly, painfully, they begin to descend. Carter’s tracker keeps beeping, more, and more, and more.


	2. M42

The elevator had taken an age to arrive at the floor above. Now, it takes even longer to get into the lowest bowels of the station. Carter can feel the shuddering of the cage around him, and wonders when the last time it was used. Before Evora and his team, of course. It is becoming obvious that they have ventured down here. The tracker is guiding them further down into the shadows, and the little marker-dot is getting closer and closer. Carter tries to push down his frustration at Evora. He should have left straight after deactivating the guns. He shouldn’t have pursued a quest to find the missing survivors. He shouldn’t have brought his team down to M42. But Carter can’t reprimand him yet. Locate him first, then let him know why he had been wrong.

The anxiety is radiating more and more off Todd and Etienne the further they drop. It is like this place has a stranglehold on them, squeezing out all their fears. An atmosphere like no other they have encountered seems to be bleeding out of the walls. Carter doesn’t let it get to him. It’s a technique he has perfected.

But, when the elevator finally grinds to a halt and the doors struggle open again, he is glad to feel the tension alleviate for a moment. 

Only for a moment.

“Jesus!” Todd is the first to react. He has his gun aimed in an instant. The green laser-sights point out of the elevator and into the dark space they have stopped at. Carter reaches back and makes him lower his weapon. He steps forward, though his legs suddenly feel unsteady. Get it together, William, he scolds himself.

The tracker stops transmitting at last. Its target sits at Carter’s feet. A desperate hand reaches out for it, smeared in a dark pool of blood. Carter swallows. His eyes reluctantly follow the red trail. Agent Harvey Lewis’ frozen expression stares right back at him. He is collapsed upon the floor, body bent and broken. His limbs and torso are covered in a wet sheen, bits of weird black resin sticking to his torn clothes. A big, oozing wound punctures his throat. But worst of all is the look on his face. His wide eyes, his gaping mouth, the stark, unbridled terror... Carter has to turn away. He barely knew the guy, but he didn’t deserve this.

“He’s got Evora’s tracker,” Todd finally says, just to break the silence. 

Carter nods. 

“What happened to Evora?”

“I don’t know. We need to find him.”

“We’re just gonna leave Lewis here? Just - lying there?”

“There’s nothing we can do for him now. He’s dead. Come on.” It sounds harsh but it gets Todd and Etienne moving. They step cautiously out of the elevator and around their fallen brother, barely able to keep their eyes off him. Etienne has turned a sickly pale shade, and doesn’t seem able to say anything. “Come on,” Carter insists, firmer this time.

They abandon the poor guy for now. There is another door just along the passage, and Carter hopes it doesn’t lead to another maze like up above. The darkness is far warmer down here. The further they go, the more he can feel sweat prickling his forehead. He wipes it away and makes sure his hands are dry about his rifle. If there is anything on the other side of this door, he has to prepared. He hasn’t seen the Outsiders inflict wounds like the ones on Lewis. There were no burn-marks about his throat from the plasma weapons, no fractured limbs from their hand-to-hand combat. The only thing like what he has witnessed before is the black resin. That could be a Silacoid attack. They have forced their way out of survivors’ mouths before, or even gone the other way down their throats. But not like that ugly, bloody injury.

And as for Lewis having Evora’s tracker... It doesn’t look good for the rest of the team. Carter can only think of one reason for Evora giving his equipment to a subordinate squad-mate.

They reach the door. Following protocol, Etienne and Todd go ahead of their commander, though Carter realises how much they don’t want to. “Stay alert,” he says. “And stay close.”

Like the elevator access panel, the security has been destroyed and hot-wired. The door is already slightly ajar, but not enough for Carter to see anything. Todd pushes it open, and it aches with a deafening whine. Their guns go first, plunging into the unknown. There is silence until Todd utters a strangled, horrified, “holy shit -“

Carter emerges onto a metal platform. The first thing he sees is the sheen of the walls. They glisten as though they have just been painted, but with a stark black coat. The room below him is huge, yet somehow, it feels constricted. He realises why. All corners and lines have been taken out. The whole place looks like the inside of a round, diseased throat. Or maybe it would be better to describe it like a gigantic dark honeycomb, the kind that festers inside the cavities of houses without people realising. A thick, hard material is sticking to the walls, giving them that slickness and a jagged, ribbed structure. It reaches out, trying to consume the abandoned power converters and consoles. This is... not right.

Todd and Etienne are paralysed. “What the hell happened here?” Todd asks, and his voice echoes down the tunnel of the room. “Is this... You think the Outsiders did this?”

Carter has no idea. They have seen black substances like this before, starting to consume farmhouses in Nebraska, or creeping along the basements of laboratories in Pennsylvania, but nothing on this scale. And what’s more, it feels different. It is even warmer in here and more humid. The rising heat is almost oppressive. 

“If Evora’s anywhere, he’s down there,” Carter says. “We can’t turn back now.”

Before they can protest, he starts to lead them down the steps into the bunker. He knows he should let them go first but he has to set a precedent. He watches his feet carefully, making sure not to tread on the creeping resin. This must have been the stuff on Lewis. It is wrapping around the handrail as if trying to consume it. All around, sickening globs of saliva-like liquid are dripping from the bizarre structure. Carter avoids them as though they are the plague.

On the ground floor, he can barely see what this room used to be. There are still rows of switchboards and voltage metres, and in the distance, there are the rising curves of the rotary converters. But they have become mere shapes beneath the alien corruption. Only a small aisle in the centre remains untouched. Carter walks it now, one hand on his rifle, the other on the flashlight. He lets it skitter over the bumpy walls. Forms are starting to emerge from the gloom. At first, he thinks it is just the ridges of the resin. His heart gives a jolt as he realises how wrong he is.

An agonised face stares down at him. Eyes bulge nearly out of their sockets, the mouth slackened in a frozen scream. He almost expects noise to erupt from it. But the poor bastard stays silent. Whatever he has seen has been and gone, and taken his life with it. The rest of the corpse hangs, half-eaten by the growths on the walls. Carter’s throat clenches. He gladly shifts his light away. Only for it to fall on another victim, and another, and another, poking out from the dark material, all along the room, tens of them, maybe even hundreds, all brought into this... cocoon. The word brings another wave of cold dread rushing over Carter’s skin. A hive, he thinks. It’s a goddamn hive for the missing people. They’ve been brought here for a reason.

“Jesus Christ,” Todd murmurs, sounding nauseous. “This is too much. This has gone too far.”

Carter doesn’t say anything. What the hell can he say to this? He just has to keep moving. He has to find Evora, and his other squad-mate, Lee. 

He doesn’t have to search for long. As he turns a corner around a ruined console deck, his feet hit against something. He reaches down and picks up Evora’s plasma pistol. A mucus of black goo won’t let go. He shakes it to try and detach it. Shudders vibrate up the wall. They disturb something lodged above him. 

“Fuck!” Carter drops the weapon and instinctively staggers back. Todd and Etienne are at his side in a second. 

He should have prepared for it, but the sudden sight of Agent Francesco Evora punches into his stomach. The agent is suspended as the other victims are, but unlike them, Carter cannot see his face. His head is drooped down, hanging over his chest. Carter lowers the flashlight onto it. He is barely able to believe what he is witnessing. Barely wants to. His abdomen is... not there anymore. There is a red, pulpy void in his torso, the flesh tattered. At first glance, Carter thinks it is an especially terrible blaster wound. But the more he stares - and Jesus, he cannot look away - the more it looks like something has come out of him. His broken ribs are bent outwards, and there are heavy spatters of blood on the resin around him. 

Todd doubles over beside Carter, hand clamped over his mouth. Etienne is muttering a string of broken French curses. Carter makes himself turn away. He takes a breath and tries to expel the taste of blood. He can’t start cracking up. Evora was a good man, he didn’t deserve this, but... There is no ‘but’. He didn’t deserve this. Period. This is one more reason to battle the Outsiders, one more gallon of fuel to Carter’s fiery anger.

They still have to find Lee. There might be some slim hope that he is alive somewhere.

Carter puts a hand on Todd’s shoulder. “Come on, up,” he says. “There’s nothing we can do.”

Todd shivers and reluctantly nods. He gradually rises to his feet, keeping his eyes down. Carter goes to Etienne and the man has an eerie distant look in his eyes. “Don’t break on me, agent,” Carter orders. It feels good to retreat back into the cold persona of a commander. 

Together now, they move through the aisles, sweeping methodically, as if there isn’t a whole hive of bodies looming over them. Carter wonders if the resin isn’t somehow sucking the power out of the machinery, dormant or not. He knows nothing about any of this. Doc Dresner, back at the Bureau HQ, would be having a field day here. 

Nearer the back of the room, the corruption begins to pull back a little. Carter finds himself walking on the normal tiles of the floor. There are odd smears of unknown liquid, and the occasional spattering of blood, as though something has been dragged. He follows it for a moment, before spotting something else. There are forms rising from the goo. He gets the sickening idea that they are people, bent over, crouched onto their knees. But the closer he gets, the more he sees that they are some natural extension out of the resin. Maybe ‘natural’ is not the right word. None of this natural. It is a parasitical invasion, perverting everything it touches.

Carter approaches with his rifle drawn. He makes a wide perimeter. The shape is roughly ovoid, tapered at the top and fat in the middle, ending in a maze of tentacles which anchor it to the ground. He raises his head and sees a cross pattern on its peak. The first thing he thinks of is an egg. He is not sure if comparing it with such a familiar object makes him feel better or worse.

Todd and Etienne meet him. Etienne halts by Carter’s side, but, driven by curiosity, Todd moves forward a little way. “Careful,” Carter suggests.

“I thought I saw something move,” Todd explains. 

Carter doesn’t like the sound of that. He makes sure there is a full energy clip latched into his weapon. “Don’t go any closer.”

Todd obeys. Carter sees he is almost on top of the sprawling tendrils at the egg’s base. He looks at the top of it, like Carter did, maybe trying to find an opening. If there even is one. Carter’s doubts are answered when suddenly, the peak begins to tremble. There is a slick, wet sound as four flaps peel open. Thick discharge dribbles down the side of the egg. Todd doesn’t need to be ordered to move back. All three of them watch a form swill and writhe in the thing’s belly. Carter raises his gun, ready to fire. 

Something stops him. A bizarre force sparks inside of his chest. For a fraction of time, he feels the urge to go forward. Two sets of instincts seem to battle for dominance within him. Or maybe it is just some sick curiosity to know what the hell the Outsiders have cooked up next. In the next second, he knows that it’s a bad idea. But, by then, it is too late. 

A creature bursts from the egg. Carter sees legs flail through the air, spider-like, flying like a open hand towards Todd. He staggers for his gun. Carter fires a burst, misses. The alien slams into Todd’s head and knocks him right off his feet. Its legs clench possessively around his skull. A long, whipping tail lashes about his throat. His cry turns into a muffled choke.

“Christ!” Against his better judgement, Carter runs to his side. Todd writhes on the ground, clawing desperately at the thing on his face. Carter grabs at it. It has clamped as hard as a goddamn vice. No matter how hard he pulls, it doesn’t even budge an inch. It seems to be getting tighter, choking Todd. His body arches frantically.

“Etienne, for God’s sake, help me!” Carter shouts over his shoulder. Etienne hurries, drops to his knees, tries to get a hold on the creature. Todd begins to slump. Carter makes one last effort. He grips the tail, manages to lift it a little way off Todd’s throat, but it constricts again. Todd falls away from him. His convulsions are fading. In a last-ditch effort, Carter pulls the knife from his tactical pack and cuts across one of the thing’s legs. A spurt of greenish liquid splashes his hand. He shouts as it burns his flesh. It drips onto Todd’s neck, and then the animal encloses possessively around the wound. In seconds, Todd is out. 

It’s all happened too fast. Etienne leans back, hand to his mouth. He is murmuring obscenities under his breath. Carter stares at the scene before him. Not a minute ago, Todd was standing here, looking at the egg. Now, he is comatose on the ground. Carter is used to dealing with screwed-up situations, used to working under heavy fire, but... not like this. His stomach rolls.

“The hell is that?” Etienne finally splutters, breaking the awful tension. 

“I don’t know. We need to get him back to HQ.”

“He’s - he’s dead.”

“No. No, he’s still breathing.”

Etienne forces himself to look at the downed agent. Sure enough, Todd’s chest is still rising and falling normally. What Carter can only assume are airbags expand and contract on the side of the creature. “What’s it doing to him?”

“I haven’t got a goddamn clue,” Carter spits. “Help me get him up.”

“What about Lee?”

Carter doesn’t answer. He swings one of Todd’s arms over his shoulder, and Etienne does the same. With some mercy, his head lolls forward, keeping the animal (or whatever the hell it is) away from them. His feet bump and drag on the creeping resin as they pull him along. More than once, he gets caught and Carter has to tug at him forcefully. All around, the faces are still staring down at them. It as if they know something - or rather, knew something - and Carter, Etienne and Todd have just walked right into it. 

“I’m gonna radio up to Barnes as soon as we can,” Carter says, if just for something to occupy his mind with. “We need immediate evac back to HQ. We’ve found our answers anyway. Evora came down here to find the missing people, and...something else found them. Etienne - I need you to - Christ’s sake, keep moving.”

Etienne has suddenly frozen. His head is turned up towards the cocoons on the walls. At first, Carter thinks he is trying to say something. But that weak voice is not coming from him. 

The thing in the resin barely looks like Jiang Lee anymore. It takes Carter a few seconds to realise it actually is him - or what has been left of him anyway. He is strung up, like they all are, and he is sweating, face a sickly contrast to the black goo. His mouth moves, though his eyes don’t seem to register anything around him. Blood glistens on his Commando’s uniform. “Commander -“ Carter catches. “Commander - you - you have to get out of - here -“

Carter forces himself over the nausea growing in his stomach. “What the hell happened here, agent?”

“This thing... something... It found us. We didn’t - have a chance.”

“What thing? The Outsiders?”

“No, no. God - no. Something else.” 

There it is again. ‘Something else’. Carter has had enough with just one type of invader, he can’t bring himself to believe there could be anything else here too. “It got Evora and hung him up,” Lee continues in a rasp. “It hung me up too. Lewis broke out - but - I don’t know - I heard him screaming... There was nothing - nothing I could do.” 

“No one’s blaming you, agent. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

“No!” Life suddenly slams back into Lee’s eyes. They fly open wide, horrified. “No! No, you can’t take me back. It’s already - got me - I haven’t got a chance.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The creature... from the egg... I saw what it did to Evora. Now the same thing’s - gonna happen to me... I’m s-scared, commander. I’m f-fucking terrified. You need to get -“

Something moves in the dark distance. Carter turns and swears he sees shadows shifting at the other end of the basement. Etienne stiffens beside him. “Get out of here,” Lee insists. “Before it gets you too. You can’t run. Get out...”

Carter sees he has no choice. He grips his rifle in one hand, secures Todd with the other, and turns away from Lee. The elevator shaft is just up the stairs and through the corridor. He suddenly feels a sharp urge to get there as quickly as they can. If that will be quick enough.

Etienne follows him. They stagger through the maze of crawling black tendrils, causing too much noise. Behind them, Lee is being even louder, frantically yelling, “get out of here! Go! Go!” And then, making Carter’s stomach lurch, “leave Agent Todd! Leave him! It’s too late!”

Carter ignores his mad cries. He and Etienne clamber up the stairs. Todd’s knees bump numbly on the metal slats. At the top, Carter dares to look round into the dark tunnel of M42. In the far-off shadows between the power converters, he can hear people waking and screaming. Their voices carry like an echo chamber, jostling others to life. Something is coming. He feels his insides prickle like a fire has been set in his gut. The closer the thing gets, the more his skin tightens and sizzles.

“Commander!” Etienne grabs his arm and pulls him off the platform. He turns away and leads Etienne back into the corridor. Lewis stares at them from his spot near the elevator. Carter tries not to look at the wound on his throat. Something had violently stopped him from getting to safety. If they don’t return to the higher levels again soon, Carter thinks the same thing might happen to him and Etienne.

They half-throw Todd into the cage. Carter pushes Etienne in beside him. Whatever is trailing them is getting closer. He can feel it approaching around the corner. He raises his rifle and reflexively fires a round into the far door. In the blinding flash, he sees a shadow emerge. Carter feels a hot sickness in the pit of his stomach.

He yanks back the elevator control lever. The doors slam shut. Their pursuer smacks into the other side, denting them, making the cage shake. Carter staggers back into the wall. He thinks for a horrible moment they will be stuck here with whatever that is. But then the elevator starts to rise in painful, jerky movements. 

He should be prepared for this after all that has happened with the Outsider invasion, yet he still feels his heart pummelling his throat and sweat sticking to his palms. He disassociates from himself and forces his concentration onto his other agents. Etienne is bowed over Todd’s inert body, trembling. Todd is still breathing at the moment, but who the hell knows for how long. Lee’s words pound at Carter’s head - “leave Agent Todd! It’s too late!” 

No. He has already lost three agents. He is not losing any more. Nothing can change his mind about that. 

Carter pulls Etienne to his feet. He looks dead-eyed. Don’t break on me, Carter thinks. There is more than one way to lose an agent. And Carter can’t do this alone right now. 

All they can do now is wait to get back to the top. It is the longest few minutes of Carter’s life. They have plenty of time to prepare for what might be lurking for them. But, he fears that, when those doors open again, they will never be as ready as he hopes. They are only three - a single commander leading a shell-shocked agent and one with an organism wrapped about his face. None of this situation is anything Carter could have ever expected. Danger is pressing down on them from above, and clawing at them from below. And maybe it is riding along with them too.


	3. Escape from New York

“Barnes. We need immediate evac. Repeat, immediate evac. We have an injured agent. Agent Todd is... Agent Todd is sick.”

The radio line crackles. For a second, Carter thinks he’s going to lose it again. Then Barnes, circling in the Skyranger, says, “sick? How do you mean, sick?”

The relief at finally making contact with their extraction vehicle swiftly changes into irritation. “I haven’t got time to explain, Barnes. Just get here!”

“Carter, I can’t bring a Sleepwalker back to HQ. Faulke will have my head.”

“It’s not that. It’s not the Sleepwalker virus. It’s -“ Here it is again. “It’s something else.”

“Something else? I need a definition.”

“Goddamn it, you’ll have all the definition you need when you see him! We need evacuation right now. I’ll deal with Director Faulke.”

There is silence on the end - so long that Carter fears the connection has dropped once more. He glances at Etienne over the inert form of Todd between them. He looks in almost as bad a shape as the downed agent. Pale, desperate, probably in need of a shrink after all that’s happened. This place is sucking the life out of them. “Okay, Carter. Copy that. I’m coming. The nearest point I can set down is Central Park.”

“Good. Good. We’ll be there.”

They are on the lower tracks again, dragging Todd along the tiles of the floor. Splatters of black goo mix with sprays of blood like some rejected Jackson Pollock painting. Carter avoids them to stop slipping. They have already been held up in the tunnel trying to stuff Todd through the duct shaft. They can’t waste any more time in this hellhole. 

It feels callous to say it but they have been lucky so far. The Outsiders have stayed away - or rather, they have stayed away from the Outsiders. The only other obstacle is the Sleepwalkers, clogging the dining concourse and the passages leading to the upper floors. Carter pushes through them. It is unnerving how apathetic they are. Anyone else seeing a man with an alien-spider-thing attached to his face would have bolted. But they still stand right in their way. Carter is getting so pissed off that he is tempted to reach for his plasma pistol and clear their path with a slightly more permanent method. 

As it turns out, though, this swarm of black-eyed mannequins is what saves their asses more than once. Out of the corner of his eye, Carter sees movement. Not the monotonous crawl of the Sleepwalkers, but something sharp and purposeful. A contingent of Outsiders intercepts them at the junction to the main concourse. Carter freezes. Etienne draws a sharp breath - the only sign of intelligence that he has made since leaving M42. At Carter’s signal, he begins to turn, merging with the crowd, trying to blend in. The Outsiders don’t care about the Sleepwalkers. That’s not who they’re looking for. Just like for Carter, they are a snag in the way. 

He waits until their armoured boots echo down the corridor. Only then does he start to move again. They are so close to the concourse. So close to getting out. He’ll worry about getting to Central Park once they’re in the open.

He takes a different route to the Outsiders. The corridors curve and wind until they begin to rise into the main entrance hall. That queue of people is still trying to get their tickets to trains that will never move. As Carter guides Etienne around the edge of the room, a man booms, “what kind of time do you call this?!” and he has his pistol in his hand before he even knows what he’s doing. A young woman, fixing her hair, hurries past him. Her husband’s anger follows them across the concourse.

The doors are coming up. Hurried New Yorkers stream down the stairs, ignorant of the black stripes down their faces. Carter pushes through them. He is almost at the top - so close to the exit - when the roof caves in. 

He doesn’t register what has happened. All he knows is his feet are suddenly not on the ground. Instead, it is his back, slamming down into the hard concrete. His head connects with the wall and blackness sings on the edges of the vision. His ears scream. For a moment, he is back on Saipan, feeling the sweltering heat of the jungle pulse and roar with bombardments. Somebody is wound around his legs. One of his men has been shot through the bowels and is bleeding over his arm. Artillery throbs in deadly rhythm. 

“Commander! Commander!” A firm grip around his shoulder, shaking him back into the present. “Commander, wake up!”

Carter cracks open his sparking eyes. Etienne has dragged himself to his side. The mass of Sleepwalkers has collapsed over them. Black goo rains down from their noses and mouths. With a sudden surge of adrenaline, Carter shoves them away.

The guts of the main concourse have spilled out. The star-spangled ceiling is in chunks on the floor, blocks of masonry still dropping down. They centre around an elite Muton. It is steadying itself from the fall, massive hands automatically priming its blaster launcher. The atomic pulse from its feet has sent shockwaves in every direction. Carter notes the furious husband from earlier crushed into mismatched jigsaw pieces. The monster’s head swivels and catches Carter’s eye. Target locked. 

He scrambles back to his feet. Todd has sunk a little way down the stairs, but the thing on his face is unhurt. Etienne drags him up. “Fall back!” Carter calls. “We can’t fight this bastard, not with just two of us.”

Never the less, he grabs up the plasma pistol from where it has fallen. With one arm around Todd’s sagging shoulders, he has less control on its aim. The recoil jars his shoulder painfully as he fires into the approaching swarm of Outsiders. A massive blast from the Muton’s launcher scatters them in seconds and takes down the doors in a hail of glass shards and scorched brick. Carter staggers through it all, choking on the rising dust. For a minute or so, all he sees is a thick haze, peppered with scything red lasers from the Outsiders’ guns.

Then they are out. The sudden cold rush of air bites at Carter. It is soon cast aside by the hot desperation pulsing within. Central Park seems a goddamn long way away. 

The crowd of Sleepwalkers form a moving barrier around them. The alien weapons puncture into them, unable to reach Carter and Etienne. They are being mown down with such dead-eyed, numb acceptance. It is like pushing through a mass of crash-test dummies. “Papa! Papa!” the kid from earlier cries, before the wail is swiftly cut off.

Todd is growing heavier and heavier against his side. Carter shifts him into a better position, realises Etienne is struggling dangerously. “Stay with me, Etienne,” he says. 

“Yes, sir, yes,” comes the reply, though within minutes, he is lagging again.

“Agent!” Carter shouts.

“I can’t carry him all the way to Central Park, commander. We won’t make it there.”

Carter knows he is right, he just doesn’t want to admit it. He stops and surveys where they have ended up. There is a parking lot to their right, mostly deserted in the desperation to escape the invaders. A couple of vehicles remain. Over the zipping of the guns, Carter hears an engine starting, stalling, re-starting. “This way,” he says.

A man sits stiffly in the front seat of a Chevrolet Bel-Air, mechanically turning his keys. It reminds Carter of the Chevy he lost at Groom Range. Damn it, he’d liked that car. Without hesitation, he opens the door and pulls the Sleepwalker onto the ground. He doesn’t even blink. “Sorry, pal,” Carter apologises. Still outside, Etienne stares at him. “Get in. No, in the back. I need you to keep watch on Todd.”

Etienne does as he’s told, propping Todd against the seat and snapping on the belt. It is the goddamn weirdest thing to look in the driver’s mirror and see him there, slumped, alien creature wrapped around his skull. He catches Etienne’s expression. “Don’t say a word, but when I was recruited, my license had almost been revoked. Reckless driving. I was 70 in a 40 limit.” He starts the ignition. The car shudders. “You better hold on.”

The Chevy skids out of the parking lot and onto Lexington. Carter wastes no time. Second gear, third, fourth, fifth, foot down on the gas. He notices the acid burn on his hand from where he tried to cut that thing off of Todd, but the adrenaline inside pushes down the pain. He concentrates on the road. Behind them, the pinnacle of the Chrysler building stabs into the sky. A crown of alien guns surround its sleek, glassy facade. Carter can already see how a chunk has been taken out of it. If they don’t stop them, the aliens will shatter this whole city and rebuild it in their own image. Carter and his men have already investigated what became of Pima - the invaders’ metal structures eating away at the landscapes. Since he was twenty-two, Carter has been fighting off foreign forces intent on warping the USA. The enemy remains the same, though their faces and accents might change.

He takes a corner onto Park. Those enemies appear again suddenly. “Shit!” Carter jerks the wheel to the right before he can smash through the alien barricade. Lasers pierce the window. He ducks as the glass sprays over him. “Goddamn it, Etienne, I can’t drive and shoot at the same time! Take this!”

He reaches over and chucks the pulse rifle into the back. Etienne smashes a window and takes aim. Carter lets him get a couple of shots, then slams the Chevy around the next corner. Another horde waits for them. The Outsiders block the North entrance to the approaching junction. Carter spins back onto 49th, wheels squealing. Hot, loud sputters of the rifle fill the car. One of the aliens topples to the ground. Its fallen gun breaks beneath the charging car.

They are back on Park again. Carter dares to look in the rear mirror and sees the Outsiders manning the first barricade turning to fire. He ducks and swears as a shot sears through the car and obliterates the front window. He jars his foot even harder on the gas. It complains, the needle bobbing near the 70 mark. He swerves between the abandoned cars, every now and then seeing Sleepwalkers raise their heads. He punches the horn, though he knows they won’t register it. 

Another turn. The bastards are everywhere. Like goddamn traffic police, blocking the roads. Carter wrenches the poor Chevy back and forth between the main streets, criss-crossing them with tyre marks. Etienne smacks against the side door. “I told you to hold on,” Carter hisses through gritted teeth. 

“Yes, sir!”

Etienne is missing his shots now. Carter is punishing the car so hard that he is hardly surprised. But he needs to alleviate the tension pounding at his throat. He deals with it by yelling at Etienne and forcing his foot firmer onto the gas. Reckless driving, he remembers. I’ll give you fucking reckless driving.

St Bart’s is approaching on the right. The stone facade has been half-ripped off and used to form another barricade across the road. Carter slows down, ready to take the next corner. Church-goers mill about, not realising their place of worship has been destroyed. The Outsiders walk amongst them on patrol, and Carter has a feeling they’re not there for God. Nor is he.

Anger bubbles. He is sick of playing this game of cat-and-mouse. These invaders do not own these streets. And they can’t make him go where they want anymore. “Fuck it,” he snarls and wrenches the gear shift back. 

“Commander!” Etienne yells, suddenly terrified.

“Hold on!”

The Chevy nearly screams at the speed he hits. The Outsiders don’t have time to react. A couple of lasers pierce the fender, but then they are scattering. The car smacks into the barricade. Its momentum smashes it right through. Carter is thrown forward, and he hears Etienne collide with the back of his seat. In front, the invaders drop beneath the wheels. The Chevy bounces over them. Carter feels a sick thrill. 

There is another barricade coming up. Breathing heavy, a little dizzy, Carter goes straight through it again. The cover-walls fly either side of the car, Outsiders with them. One tries to act smart and throws itself onto the hood. “Etienne!” Carter shouts and his shot blows the alien’s head clean off. Black blood splatters the red paintwork which, until about five minutes ago, had been flawless.

They are still flying down Park. More cars are abandoned in the way. Some are moving back and forth, trying to turn a corner. Carter avoids them. He thinks he has been successful, until Etienne says, “Commander, we’ve got some extra passengers.”

Carter looks in the mirror. Two Sectoids are clambering over the trunk. One crawls through the back window, and the other comes around the side. Etienne swings, leans over Todd, tries to hit it with the butt of the rifle. It is too quick. Carter wants to reach back and help but the second alien is sliding through his smashed side window. Its long, sharp fingers claw at his neck. He raises an elbow and smashes it. It comes back, hissing and drooling. He could try and grab his pistol but the little fucker is tugging at his sweater, wrenching him away from it. He gives in, grips the steering wheel again, and with a yell, swings it to the left. 

The Chevy scrapes along the side of a stalled Ford. The alien is squashed between them in a disgusting burst of sinew and muscle. Gore splatters into Carter’s face. In the mirror, he sees how the other Sectoid has lost its balance in the jarring swerve. Etienne pushes it into the opposite door and blasts it through. 

“How’s Todd?” Carter shouts. 

Etienne struggles to talk. “The thing is still on him.”

“He’s breathing?”

“Yeah...Yeah, he is.”

“Good. We’re nearly there.” 

He races along the rest of Park until it intersects with East 57th. Just a few more turns and the twisting city streets are replaced with trees. Carter still doesn’t slow. The Chevy mounts the kerb and bolts over the sidewalk into the greenery. He avoids the shimmering water of the Pond, still placid after all this chaos, and bounces on the rolling park. Come on, Barnes, where the hell are you?

Carter smacks through the fenced-off nature sanctuary and hears the sound that was never intended for this place. Rotors slice through the air, getting closer. He plummets down another slope and there is the Skyranger waiting for them. They have been in some messed-up situations before, but he is pretty sure he has never been more glad to see the helicopter. Leon Barnes clambers down from the cockpit. 

Carter finally brings the Chevy to a squealing halt. He staggers out. “Damn,” Barnes says at the state of the car.

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Carter opens the back door, halfway broken off, and drags out Etienne who stumbles to the ground. Todd comes next, slumping into Carter. “Damn,” Barnes says again. 

“We need to get him back to HQ. No questions.”

“What the hell -“

“I said, no questions.”

Carter is at the end of his tether. He can feel it snapping more and more. Barnes must be able to tell, because he nods and returns quickly to the Skyranger. Carter calls for Etienne to join him, and they climb into the extraction vehicle. Todd is strapped in, then Carter finally slumps into the seat. He is exhausted. The helicopter slowly rises from the destroyed mass of Central Park. He looks out and sees the little Chevy fade further and further away. In the distance, the patchwork of streets they have just raced down stretch back to Grand Central. Outsiders stream out of it. They are heading towards their massive guns, ready to turn them on again. Carter feels the creeping sense failure rising in his stomach. 

He turns away. Etienne is bowed over, hands clasped like he is praying, or maybe he is just trying to avoid looking at Todd. They have a way to go until they are back at HQ. Carter can’t shift the feeling that they won’t even be safe there. But one thing is for damn sure. 

Director Faulke is not going to be happy. Their escape might still prove to be all for nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, I have *no* idea what New York is like, but I used Google Maps for the chase scene haha


	4. Quarantine

Carter had been right. Director Faulke is not happy.

The Skyranger touches down on the helipad back at HQ, the doors open, and there he is, just waiting to be angry. Carter is the first one out to face his wrath. Two armed guards flank him, rifles aimed towards Carter. He should have been expecting this. Barnes had radio-ed ahead to let the Director know about their extra passenger. He hadn’t heard the response. He is about to hear it now.

“Agent Carter, what the hell have you done? You’re lucky I don’t shoot you down.”

Carter breathes out. He is back to ‘Agent Carter’, not ‘Will’ anymore. “Sir, we found Agent Evora and his team. They’d turned off the guns, but they were below ground -“

“I don’t give a damn about that right now, Carter. What have you brought back with you?”

Carter looks back towards the Skyranger. Etienne is still inside, sat next to Todd. “I’ve brought back a sick agent. He’s still alive.”

“Bring him out.”

Carter ducks into the helicopter again and slings an arm around Todd’s shoulder. Etienne comes out with him. “My god,” Faulke breathes. The armed guards step forward and it takes Faulke a few seconds to snap out of it and tell them to stand down. He swallows, unable to remove his eyes from the alien mask on Todd’s face. It looks even worse under the lights of the HQ. “That isn’t something the Outsiders did.”

“No.”

“And you brought it back here. Jesus Christ, Carter. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that there’s still a chance to save him. It’s not the Sleepwalker virus. He needs urgent medical attention.”

“Urgent medical attention... That’s a polite way to say it.”

Carter ignores the frustration churning in his chest. Todd is getting heavier against him, and having that creature so near is not the most comfortable thing. “I drove halfway across Manhattan to bring him back.”

“Carter, your actions were reckless and borderline stupid. I don’t know what that thing is. Just by bringing it here you could have infected us all. I’m not allowing it one more step in.”

“Sir, this isn’t -“

“I don’t care what this ‘isn’t’. I care that this is an unknown creature that you’ve treated like a superficial wound. Right now, I’m debating whether to let any of you back in.”

Carter shuts his mouth. He had known that Faulke would say this. The situation with the Sleepwalkers has drained resources at HQ and Faulke is as paranoid as they come. A poster-boy for the war, seeing Reds and Greys alike under his bed. Even worse than Carter himself. 

Todd suddenly slumps against him. For a moment, the wet hide of the alien caresses his sweater and he feels a jolt. Its limbs seem to shift and there is a sickening second where he thinks it might latch on to him next. But then the doors behind Faulke are opening and Doctor Dresner is hurrying out. He ignores his boss and comes straight for the creature. Faulke’s guards stop him. “No closer,” the Director warns.

The elderly doctor steps back, but his eyes are still glued to the animal on Todd’s face. “Where did you find this?” he asks.

Carter glances to Faulke. “Underneath Grand Central,” he says, not wanting to reveal anything more out here in the open.

“You’ve tried to extract it?”

“Obviously we have.”

“We need to get Agent Todd inside. I may be able to detach it from him. Or at least research it.”

“Doctor,” Faulke admonishes sharply. “That is not a call that you can make.”

“With all respects, sir, if we are to defeat this invasion, we need every piece of information we can get. My scientists have already come a long way with the Sectoids, the captured Muton and the Zudjari Infiltrator. But there is only so much they can give up. We have not seen anything like this.” 

Carter doesn’t like the eager look shining in Dresner’s eyes. It is too much like a cartoon mad scientist eager for his next experiment. Which is exactly what this is, really. But he needs a way to get Todd to help. “The Outsiders stayed away from it,” he tries. “They weren’t anywhere near where this thing was. If they’re scared of it -“

Dresner nods at him. “Director Faulke, my quarantine protocols are - ah - foolproof. Nothing will leave my laboratory. And nothing will get in.”

“How about your little Silacoid escape, Doctor? We were picking black gunk out of the vents for weeks afterwards.”

“That was an unfortunate error, sir. Which was rectified immediately. You can place your trust in me, that will not happen again. And I doubt this creature will be scuttling into our ventilation system any time soon.”

Faulke looks between Dresner, Carter and Todd. He is caught between the enthusiasm of his prized scientist, the anger of a high-ranking official, and the desperation of one of his agents, which are not exactly in good supply these days. Carter knows he has made more hard decisions in the past few months than maybe in his entire career before. But he still goes into this one like a stubborn bull suddenly forced into a pen. “If anyone sees you other than the medical personnel - if you arouse any other attention, then the leeway I’m giving you ends immediately. All of you - into quarantine until further orders. Agent Carter, Agent Etienne, and Agent Todd. And you too, Barnes. I don’t know what that thing could have done to you in the Skyranger.”

“Sir -“ Barnes starts to protest.

“Now! Doctor Dresner, full decontamination procedures.”

Carter follows Dresner into the building, deciding not to make eye contact with Faulke. But as he passes him, he hears him make a wry comment. “How do you feel about that, Carter? Your morals are equal to the German doctor.”

He ignores him.

They go in through the secure tunnels where there is less chance of being spotted. Within seconds, they are met by a group of men in Hazmat suits. They urge Carter, Etienne, Todd and Barnes along. Behind their heavy masks, Carter cannot see their expressions. He feels as though he is in a hostage situation. At the medical quarter, they are split up. Carter doesn’t know whether he is glad or unsettled to see Todd go. He is the responsibility of the doctors now. That is a good thing. Maybe.

He, Etienne and Barnes are taken further into the bowels of the Bureau. Secret areas within a secret base. There are so many cover-ups that sometimes Carter suspects even he doesn’t know everything, despite being one of Faulke’s highest agents. He is involved in another conspiracy now. What’s one more alien to the menagerie that Dresner has down here? 

They are brought to a locked door. Full decontamination procedures. Everything is stripped from them and they are guided into a sealed room. Three apathetic faces stare at them from behind a reinforced glass window. “Hold your breath,” Carter warns Etienne. And then rushes of liquid are lacerating their skin, gushing down from nozzles along the ceiling. It comes down so quick and violent that it’s like drowning. It’s not freezing, but it’s enough to sharpen Carter’s breath. Next to him, Etienne ignores his advice and starts gasping in shock. 

More nozzles are switched on, attacking them from all sides. Carter screws his eyes closed. The decontaminant burns his flesh. He can feel the layers almost being stripped away. These rooms were designed for radiation scares, in the event of a nuclear disaster. No risks are taken here. They are ushered into the next line-up of procedures, scrubbed down, doused in soap and god knows what else, rubbed and pulled about. Carter feels like he is on some kind of manufacturing conveyer. It is part-torture, part-humiliation. He is glad when it is over and he is dressed in a clean robe, although it doesn't matter what they do, he can still feel the touch of that thing against his shoulder. 

Dresner returns to them when it is over. He is dressed in his white smock, ready for action. He guides them through the back corridors of the laboratory and into more sealed rooms. Carter is used to being on the other side of this. He has been party to Dresner’s experiments and analyses on the Sectoids and Silacoids and Mutons brought back to the Bureau. He can hear that kind of thing going on as they walk. Behind locked doors, there is the hum and zing of electricity, the occasional inhuman cry. There aren’t any Geneva worries here. The aliens never signed that convention.

There are beds waiting for them. They are right at the end of an empty medical ward, curtains drawn around them. Dresner pulls them back. Someone has obviously tried to get rid of it, but Carter can see traces of black blood staining the sheets. He looks at Dresner. “What are you going to do to Agent Todd?” he asks.

Dresner pauses. “Whatever is necessary.”

“And that is?”

“I can’t be certain yet. But you’ll have to stay in here for as long as the Director deems it fit. I’m sorry for the - sorry for the inconvenience, William. No doubt he’ll be down to talk to you properly soon.”

“No doubt.”

“The creature, William... Where exactly did you find it? Where in Grand Central?”

Carter sits down on one of the beds. He suddenly realises how tired he is. All the adrenaline that has kept him going is finally starting to fade. “Underneath,” he replies again. “In an egg - or something.”

“An egg?”

Carter nods. 

“Is it dangerous?”

“I haven’t got a fucking clue. It just - it just jumped onto Agent Todd, attached, and that was it. I couldn’t cut it off or pull it. Seemed to bleed some type of acid when I tried.”

Dresner nods. Carter wonders what other kinds of screwed-up things he has seen in his experiments to take that so calmly. “Well, we’ll have to run some tests, and work out what the best plan will be for him. Ideally, we’ll be able to get it off of him. But -“ He leaves the suggestion hanging. “You understand, Will.”

“No. I don’t understand. I don’t understand anything.”

“I hope I have more information for you soon. Until then...” 

Carter can tell that Dresner is eager to get to Todd. Carter feels like he should be there too. He has got him all the way across Manhattan, risked his neck for it, but he has lost him in the confines of the Bureau. The danger is not over yet. The danger is never over. 

For now, Carter’s hands are tied. He feels the walls press in on him with the problems weighing down on them, yet he is being made to lay back and ‘recover’ from something that has no definition. He can still feel the burning kiss of the decontaminant shaving away his skin, taking out invisible enemies. For the first time in so long, he feels out of control of his body. He feels out of control of everything. He gets the crushing sensation that he can’t stay here, he can’t, not with what is going on outside - 

But then Dresner is leaving. He is forced to watch him go without another word. 

The door locks behind him. And that is that. 

***  
“Carter, why is it, whenever any trouble happens, I always find you in the middle of it?”

“Sir, I’ve been asking myself that same question.”

Through the glass window, Carter watches Director Faulke draw a weary hand across his eyes. He feels a surge of resentment for it. Tired, he thinks. You’re not the only one who’s tired. It’s been nearly twelve hours since Carter and Etienne returned from New York, and they haven’t been allowed one second of rest. Each moment has been filled with the incessant buzzing of scientists and machines, like angry flies burrowing into their heads. Test after test after test - medical, physical, invasive, psychological - a whole doctor’s career shoved into just half a day. Carter feels worse now than he did when they came back, even though Doctor Dresner has tentatively said he can’t find anything wrong with them. Barnes has already been sent back to regular duty, and Carter is envious. 

Still, Faulke and Agent Angela Weaver remain behind the protective screen. Everything is a barrier now. We don’t trust the enemies. We don’t trust our friends. We don’t trust ourselves. Vigilo, confido. 

“How is Agent Todd?” Carter asks before Faulke can start pummelling him with his own questions. 

“Don’t concern yourself with that yet, Carter.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but -“

“An order is an order,” Faulke snaps. Carter shuts up. “Now, I want to know exactly what happened in New York. From the beginning to the end. I don’t care if you want to protect yourself or your agents - I don’t care if you’re shaken by what happened - I don’t care if you’re ashamed - I want to hear everything. For all we know, you could have brought anthrax back here. For the safety of this operation and its people, don’t get shy on me now, Carter.”

Carter bears his hot glare through the glass. The Director is a stoic man, sometimes intimidating to his crew, but he has not seen him so outwardly angry before. Next to him, Weaver is watching him just as sharply, and Carter knows she would have had to bear his wrath before coming here. He decides to tell the truth - not for them, but for Todd. In case it might bring him back to life. “When we arrived at the drop-off point, the guns had already been shut off. I expected Agent Evora’s signal to be coming somewhere near them, but instead, it was coming from inside Grand Central Terminal. We followed it into the lower station.”

“Agent Evora and his men should have requested immediate evac after shutting down the guns. Wasn’t that your agreed plan with them?”

He’s trying to blame me for this, Carter thinks. “Yes, sir. Shut down the guns, and immediately return. I don’t know how, or why, they ended up in Grand Central - maybe they were taking cover. But we spoke to a survivor in there -“

“A Sleepwalker?”

“No. It was a - well, he wasn't infected. He said that Evora and his team had gone down the tracks to look for the missing people.”

“That wasn't part of their instructions.”

“I know.” Faulke is just stating the obvious now. Let me talk, Carter thinks. “We followed their course down through the tracks but the signal kept coming from below us.” 

Faulke’s face tightens. “M42,” he says.

Carter nods. “That's where they were. The elevator was busted like they'd forced their way down. They didn't go down there accidentally. They knew it was there. Or at least Agent Evora did. Some of the Outsiders tried to trap us but we managed to get down into the sub-basement. Down there, it was… It was, uh -“ Carter suddenly finds he is struggling for words. The images are seared into his mind, but nothing can even begin to describe it. It sounds like a mad nightmare, or something from the science-fiction horror pulps. “It was covered with - uh - some kind of web.”

“A web?”

That's a terrible way to describe it. “No. No, more like the Silacoids. Black stuff. It was all over the walls and the floor. And the missing people were, uh, they were -“

“Cocooned.” Etienne suddenly chimes in next to him. He has been silent for so long, closed in on himself. Now, he repeats the word like it is imprinted on his tongue. “It was like a massive cocoon.”

Carter nods. “All the missing people were down there. Agent Lewis was by the elevator shaft. It looked like he’d tried to get away, but something stopped him. There was a massive puncture wound in his throat. Agent Evora was strung up in the black cocoon. There were so many of them there - hundreds maybe - unlucky bastards who’d decided to take the train rather than walk, and had ended up like flies in a trap. Evora...” He trails off, the images repeating on him like rotten food. The bloody mess of Evora’s chest seems to stifle his own. “I’ve never seen a wound like that before. Right at the sternum and spread over the torso, like something had torn it open. It was - it was damn ugly.”

Next to him, Etienne visibly shudders. Carter pulls himself together, ashamed and irritated. “Agent Lee was there too. He was hung there like Evora was, but he was still alive.”

Faulke tenses. “Still alive? Didn’t you ask him what the hell had happened?”

“He was completely gone, Director. ‘Shell-shock’ would be a mild way of putting it. He said he didn’t have a chance, and that we had to leave him. He begged us. He was terrified of something that was there.”

“How about Agent Todd?” Weaver asks.

“Near the back of the station, there were these…things. Eggs. That's the best way I can describe them. About four feet high and wide, big enough to wrap your arms around. There were at least ten of them in that part, there might have been more further down. We stayed away, as far as I thought was safe. Agent Todd got too close, anyway. This - that thing - came out of the egg and snapped straight onto him. We didn't have a single chance to get it off. We tried. But…it was on too tight.”

“And you made the decision to bring him back here,” Faulke interjects as if to clarify any guilt that might need to be attached. “Damn it, Carter, I’ve already lost a good man in DaSilva, I can’t lose another one.” 

Carter feels a stab of guilt at the reminder of Agent Nico DaSilva’s loss. He had let him drive into the gas station, eyes and mouth bleeding black, so Carter and his men could get away. “I made the decision to bring Todd back,” Carter continues. “Because he was still breathing. Because there was still a chance to save him.”

He decides not to mention Lee’s panicked warning to them to leave Todd behind. At that point, it wasn't an option. Carter had been tied to his decision for good or for bad. 

Faulke nods silently. He has obviously heard all he needs to know. He adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose and pulls another weary hand across his forehead. “Agent Todd is still comatose,” he concedes. “But when he wakes up - if he wakes up, rest assured I'll be questioning him too. This creature is like nothing we've encountered so far, Carter. I hope you realise that. It's not like the Outsiders. Doctor Dresner is baffled, and god knows I've never seen him like that before.”

“Has anyone questioned the Infiltrator?”

Faulke sighs. “No.”

“Then someone should. We’ve got an Outsider here who'll sing prettily with the right force. If there's anything it knows -“

“Agent Carter, I cannot give you permission to do that.”

“Sir.”

“The Zudjari Infiltrator is an invaluable source. If I let you in there with him when you're like this -“

“I'm fine.”

“-then we might lose that. I know your methods, Agent. I know what you did to that poor son of a bitch last time. With proper vetting, I may let someone else into that room. But right now, you and Agent Etienne will have to stay here. My personnel, other than a select few, are suspicious - justifiably - but they don't know exactly what has happened. I intend to keep it that way, until we can work out a clear definition and explanation.”

It is futile to argue with that. Carter feels stifled in here, being observed and probed like a criminal. He wants to get back to his normal duties. He wants to get back out there and fight against this alien threat, which has never felt closer or more deadly. Anger is still pumping inside of him. Much longer in these labs and he's going to go mad. All he wants is action and answers. 

But it doesn't look like he's going to get either of them soon.

***

“He's just through here, William. I don't believe there are any contaminants in the air, but the good Director has instructed my staff to wear these at all times. We best obey him.”

Carter picks up the surgical mask that is being handed to him and ties it around his mouth. Etienne does the same. They're standing outside a set of white doors in the hospital, looking and feeling like two doctors about to perform the most important operation of their lives. He knows that what is in the room beyond is make or break. This is what he has been waiting for. 

“After you, William. I won't warn you about the shock, like I've had to do with my doctors.”

Dresner holds the door open for him. He steps in and is immediately struck how bright it is in there. A rig of electric lights have been positioned above the gurney in the centre of the room, and they are all switched on full-power. Harsh illumination bounces off of Todd and his new friend. He is lying there on his back, stripped out of his clothes and in a simple white gown. An IV line presses into his arm. He is still breathing, chest rising and falling serenely. It seems impossible. The creature is clenched around his skull, even uglier under these lights. It is slick and wet, with flesh that reminds Carter of some kind of mutant frog. He keeps a good distance, though he knows how effective that had been last time. 

“Any idea what the hell it is?” he asks.

Dresner sighs behind his mask. “I can only speculate, William. It has a tough hide, a layer of protein polysaccharides, Amino acids...” 

“In English, Doc.”

“It’s a tough little hurensohn. It’s built to endure. You were right to give up trying to detach it. Those, let’s say, legs are like a vice. They’ve clamped so hard around your agent’s head that we would do him significant damage if we attempted to wrench it off. Not only that, but each time we thought we were getting somewhere, this tail -“ He waves a pen, almost nonplussed, at the long, ribbed extension wrapped about Todd’s neck. “It would squeeze even harder. It’s found its target, and it’s not moving.”

“But he’s still alive. This - thing isn’t trying to kill him.”

“No. I came to the same conclusion, William. It’s only trying to incapacitate him. In fact, it seems to be feeding him oxygen. Trying to keep him breathing.”

Carter frowns, looking at the inflating and deflating air-bags at either side of the creature. It is almost in sync with Todd’s gentle breathing. “Why?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t know, William. Maybe it is trying to gain something from him, like one of those little feeder fishes that cling to the back of whales.”

“A parasite?”

“Of some sort, possibly. But this is only guesswork.”

Carter wanders about the edge of the room. There are images strung up - some high-detail photographs of the creature (as if they need any more reminders of it), glossy, black and white x-rays, and other things. One picture is a mass of a spidery lines, intersected with a dark black tube. “Is this Todd?” he asks.

Dresner nods. “It’s a part of him, anyway. Around the oesophagus.”

“What the hell’s it got down his throat?”

“I’d suggest that that tube is how it’s feeding him oxygen.”

“Jesus Christ.” Carter looks away. He feels his own throat tighten, like something has just been rammed down it. “How the hell can you stand here and do your research like this? This isn’t one of your goddamn Sectoids, Doc. This is one of my agents. This is a human being.”

Dresner holds his hands up to placate him. “Look, William, he’s still alive. And I think I can maintain that.”

“Some life. With his little friend here.”

“It may not stay that way. Just give me some time. I may be able to figure out something. Or - who can tell - maybe the creature will drop off. Like the body pushing out a splinter, or a - ah - butterfly shedding its cocoon.” Carter doesn’t like that he has chosen to describe it like that. In the corner, he sees Etienne draw in even more on himself. He has been too quiet since they came back. The shock of it is hitting him more obviously - more outwardly - than it is hitting Carter. He is in danger of losing two good agents. “The bottom line, William, is that he is in my hands now. He is my primary concern. Trust me. This is the first time in weeks where you’ve been permitted some rest. I suggest you enjoy it while you can.”

Carter almost laughs. “Enjoy it? Doc, I’m in quarantine, treated like a goddamn basket-case, or like I’ve got the plague. No one’s giving me any answers. I don’t even know what my other men are doing out there. And in here, one of my best agents has a fucking alien attached to his face. I’m meant to be on the front line. Not playing the subject in one of your Doctor Death experiments.”

Dresner tenses a little, but doesn’t rise to the insult. No doubt he has heard it before, in this fiercely oppressive climate of paranoia at the Base. “I want to understand these creatures, William. I want to end this war as much as you do. Maybe you forget that we’re on the same side now.”

Carter tries to calm himself. It is not really Doctor Dresner he is mad at. He is mad at this whole thing - this whole fucked-up situation, just one damn problem on top of each other. He looks at Todd again and shakes his head. That’s all he can do.

He marches out of the lab before he can say anything else stupid. Soon enough, the doctors will grab him again and take him back into their cosy little quarantine pen. But, for now, he finds an unused gurney in the corridor and drops down onto it. In that second, he is back to that night three years before, waiting outside his superior’s office, without a clue of where he was or what the hell he was going to do, but with those words still ringing inside his head.

“I’m sorry, Will, there was nothing you could have done.”

Why the hell had he been the one to tell Carter? He remembers thinking, why aren’t my family here to tell me, before the full reality of it hit him. 

Carter lights a cigarette. His hands are shaking.

“Commander.” A voice comes through the descending fog. He takes a lungful of smoke, not caring about where he is, and sees Etienne approaching. He is walking carefully, as if Carter is some wild animal about to pounce on him next after his rail at Dresner. 

“What is it?”

Etienne lingers near him. “Doctor Dresner is sending us back to the ward.”

“I thought so.”

“He said Agent Todd might join us soon. He seems to think he can get that thing off of him.”

Carter huffs. He can think of a few disparaging remarks to that. But he just shakes his head, tired of arguing. “Sure.”

“Commander - can I ask you a question?”

No. “What?”

Etienne hesitates. He is near to overstepping the boundary between their ranks already, but Carter hasn’t given a damn about that since they entered quarantine. Etienne has been in his squad during nearly every mission and manoeuvre, and now, he is here, holed away in this lab with him. They are patients. That is all they are in the eyes of the scientists, anyway. “At Grand Central, you said that there was nothing we could do for the Sleepwalkers and the survivors and the other squad. But, then, why -“

“Why is it so different with Agent Todd?” Carter has predicted the question right. He knows the answer, but it is still trapped inside of him. He looks at himself in the window opposite the gurney, sitting with smoke curling about his mouth, face drawn and exhausted, his 42 years weighing heavily on him. He is getting too old for this shit. “I led you down there,” he says simply, still not turning to Etienne. “We’ve already lost too many good men.”

He gets up before Etienne can press him anymore. He walks away from him, ignoring the eyes boring into his back. Halfway down the corridor, he is intercepted by two guards. It is back behind the bars. Carter goes without another word. Before now, the problems have been pushing against the walls. This time, he brings them with him, pounding away at his mind. There is no escape anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a much slower than the other chapters, sorry, but the next chapter is wild so look out for that ~


	5. Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gore warning for this chapter, people

Carter is back here again. The darkness is all around him - on the the walls, in the air, clinging to his skin. When he breathes, he can feel it inside. The weight of this place crushes him. Overhead, the distant rumble of trains go back and forth. He ignores them, just like whoever is up there is ignoring what is...down here.

The metal steps creak beneath his feet. He reaches out to steady himself on the railings, but there is too much of that stuff stuck to it. He whips his hand away and wraps it back around the laser pulse rifle. The familiar cool metal feels so useless and unnecessary here. He knows that it might work against the Outsiders, but it will not work against whatever lurks in these shadows.

Still, the light at the end of it helps to push back some of the bleakness. He raises it into his eye-line, guiding it along the ribbed walls. The warped, pitch-black chunks look even worse than how he remembered. A permanent dripping noise echoes through the chamber as the slime and fluid dribbles from high above. Carter avoids the streams of it. The power converters have disappeared so his path is clear through the wide, long chamber. He cannot see all the way to the end, but he can hear something moving where his sight can’t reach. He knows - he knows - it shouldn’t be here.

He is drawn to the slick walls. As his torch skitters over them, they seem to pulse with deep energy. It really does look like the inside of a cancerous throat, swallowing and choking on the black lumps. Those same figures from before are lodged in it. He sees Evora, strung up, chest leaking with blood. He sees Lee, now frozen in permanent terror. He sees Lewis, dragged from the elevator and with his head almost severed. And all those other strangers, a menagerie of crippled corpses as far as his light can grope. 

But no. It is different now. The further he walks, the more the memory shifts. Todd is suspended above him, creature still clamped to his face. His lungs breathe and flutter frantically. It isn’t possible but Carter thinks he can almost hear his voice - “help me, goddammit, commander, help me.” The desperate tone follows Carter all the way down the chamber. He is confronted with other agents and colleagues - Etienne comatose in the dark cocoon, Faulke beside him, and Weaver, and Dresner and Barnes and everyone else from the Bureau. 

Carter hurries, trying to get to the end of this gallery of suffering. He only gets further up the hierarchy of his grief. Here are his men from the War, still in their uniforms, slick with blood. He notices Jimmy Russo, his arm and part of his abdomen missing from the artillery at Saipan. Carter can feel his blood and organs stuck to him, even after all this time. “Have they got me, lieutenant? Have they got me?” he still pleads, before his eyes slip into a dead haze.

Carter goes on, but the walls of the chamber are getting closer. The dangling feet of the victims knock against his sides, and every now and then, a hand scrapes over his shoulder. They’re already dead. But they’re shouting at him, moaning and crying and begging. “Help!” he keeps hearing. He cannot help them all. 

Suddenly, he’s at the end of the hall. The black wall appears out of nowhere.

And then he hears another voice. This is not one of his agents or soldiers. It is her. Her face emerges through the shadows. She is held up like the rest and her hands twitch helplessly, trying to reach out even as she slumps there like a comatose rag doll. Carter’s stomach jolts as he sees who she is clawing out for. Richard is there alongside her. Had she done this in reality? Had she reached out for him for one final time, trying to save her only son?

Her voice echoes in his head. “Will,” she moans, and that is all she says, over and over again. Carter fills in the blanks as he has done for the past three years. “Why weren't you here? Why didn't you help us?”

He stares up at her. She is just out of reach, stolen away by the black corruption. “Julia,” he calls but she cannot hear him. He has to get them out. 

In the distance, he can see a light sputtering through the shadows. He turns and once again, it is coming. The inferno roars out of the shadows, eating through the thick dark walls. Everything begins to melt and hiss. It is approaching too fast. Carter makes one final attempt to save his wife and son. He knows he cannot. Hands reach out from behind him and clench about his limbs. Before he can resist, he is being dragged backwards.

The flames are blinding. But he cannot look away. He is forced to watch as the fire sears up their defenceless bodies. “Julia! Richard!” he screams. 

Once again, he sees them burn. And he cannot do a single thing about it.

He wakes with a start. For a moment, he can't breathe. He fights with it, grabbing at the cover thrown over him. His heart thunders in his ears, making the world swarm. He remembers the advice the shrinks had tried to give him. Count your breaths, don't panic. Carter ignores them and reaches for the flask he has stashed beneath the couch. His fingers fumble over the lid but he manages to unscrew it and take a long swig. It numbs the sting a little.

Gradually, his pulse slows down. He focuses on some distant point and slowly, the sounds of the Bureau drown out his heart. People are moving back and forward outside the windows. He can see the dull light of the huge screen, the map of the USA emblazoned on it with the current missions flashing gently. He listens to the muted chattering until his adrenaline has evened. 

He is back in his office now. This has been the first time he’s slept since Dresner released him and Etienne from quarantine. Of course, his mind has to fuck up the one chance he’s had for rest. Another nightmare, repeating the same things over and over and over again. He’s tried - and failed - to save his family and his men in a thousand different scenarios. 

Carter gets up, lights a cigarette and tries to burn away the remaining panic. He leans on Agent DaSilva’s old desk where he’s already started to accumulate paperwork. This recruitment into Faulke’s Bureau was only meant to be a short-time thing. But the months have gone on, men and women have died, and the invasion is showing no signs of blowing over. And now, they have a new problem to deal with. It’s fucking ironic. The earth has gone millennia without a single scrap of contact with alien intelligences. And now, in the space of a year, they’ve had two, if Dresner is to be believed that their new friend is a separate species.

Todd is still being held in the murky depths of the base. When Carter drifted off, his agent remained under the influence of that thing. But, now he has woken, he feels like things are different. Don’t ask him how. He just senses that that alien has done something new. Call it a commander’s intuition. 

Within minutes, the phone on DaSilva’s desk rings. “William?” Dresner’s voice says. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but there’s been a development with Agent Todd.”

Carter pushes down his unease at how much he knew he was going to say that. “What is it?”

“It’s easier if you come and see him.”

His adrenaline starts to rise again.

***

“How are you feeling, agent? You’re looking a lot better.”

Sitting up on the gurney, shrouded in a dirty hospital gown, Todd coughs and puts a hand to his chest. When he talks, his voice is raspy and thin. “I’m feeling better,” he says. “Just a little nauseous. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“What do you remember?”

“Not much. I remember New York, and an elevator. Then...just a dream about - smothering or something, I don’t know. But they’ve filled in the gaps for me.”

Carter glances across at Dresner, standing quietly in the corner of the medical bay. He is still dressed in his lab coat and Carter notices a telltale burn on the arm of it. He can only imagine what he has been doing with the suddenly detached creature. “I thought it was for the best if he knew, William. I did it slowly, so it didn’t shock him too much.”

The expression on Todd’s face says: it still did. According to Dresner, he had woken up around two hours before. Before that, the alien had fallen off of its own accord, shrivelled and died. Dresner and Doctor Alan Weir had been monitoring Todd for any adverse effects, and had found none. Even his fever had gone down. Carter is glad. But there is something else that he cannot quite put his finger on. It is because that alien is still here somewhere. And Dresner is going to carry on studying it like a pet. 

“There is nothing else I’m worried about with Agent Todd,” Dresner continues. “I’ve already spoken to Faulke, and he agrees that he can return to active duty as soon as he feels fit.”

Todd looks eagerly at Carter. “I feel fit now, commander.”

“Good. We need you back out there.” 

“I would still keep an eye on him though, William,” Dresner interjects. “If there is anything -“

“He’ll be fine. You’re alright now, agent, aren’t you?”

Todd nods, though he splutters and takes another sip of the water in his hand. Dresner doesn’t understand what it’s like to be stuck away in here when other squads are out on the field. But he accepts their determination without any argument. 

“Did you find anything else out about the creature?” Carter asks. Dresner shakes his head.

“Not yet. But Alan is casting his experienced eye over it. A second opinion might -“

“I want it destroyed, Doc.”

Dresner shuts up for a moment. Then a placating, almost patronising smile crosses his face. “That’s not your call unfortunately, William. And if you want me to discover anything more about it then I need it here with me.”

“Has anyone spoken with the Infiltrator yet?”

“No. Not yet. But I doubt he’d be able to tell us anything.”

Carter wants to argue, but now is not the time. Not with Todd sat here between them. He will follow up on that once he is back on his feet. The Infiltrator is one of the Zudjari who they had captured early in the campaign, after his murder of Agent Nils, and is now one of their little informants in the lab. Carter has already employed some tactics to get him to spill about the invaders. He knows he could get him to tell more, if he has any info about this new alien. Faulke is a fool if he doesn’t consider that.

“Fine,” he concedes for now. “But, as soon as things are back to normal...”

It feels stupid to say. Normal. What the hell is normal anymore? They have aliens crawling out from every hole in the USA, and raining down from the sky. Still, Dresner nods. “I understand, William. You want to do the best for your agents. And so far, you have.”

“You think I did the right thing by bringing Agent Todd back here then?”

He doesn’t miss the glint in Dresner’s eye. “Of course I do, William. I’m a compassionate man. And a diligent scientist.”

Todd glances between them. Surely he must have connected the dots and realised what an awkward position his little hitchhiker had put the Bureau in, what with Faulke’s tight security. “Thank you, commander,” he says suddenly. “I know it can’t have been easy getting me past the Director.”

Carter crosses his arms. “It wasn’t. But you’re welcome. I had to - Well, I had to try something.” 

“Thank you.”

“It’s gonna be alright now, agent. We’ll get back out there and forget about all this. I have to give a briefing later on what happened. Or - what Faulke is saying happened. It’d be good if you could be there.”

Dresner does not argue with him. Todd nods. “Yes, sir.”

“Agent Etienne will be there too. The official line is that we came into close contact with the Sleepwalker virus and were quarantined out of precaution. Not the best cover story, but it’ll have to do for now. You think you can run with that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

Carter wishes that the Sleepwalker virus is all this is. What was previously the biggest worry in the Bureau is now seeming like a minor inconvenience compared to what they have just been through. If word got out of the truth, morale might drop far enough to let the Outsiders through the already vulnerable defences. Carter hates that he has to lie again. 

He leaves Todd to Dresner one more time. It is over now, he keeps telling himself. Everything is going back to how it was. But, still, the reassurance won’t stick. Something unknown, nameless, pulses at the back of his mind. And all the way along the corridor, he can hear Todd coughing again, like he is trying to rid himself of something in his throat.

***

“I’m sure you’ve all caught wind of what happened just over 24 hours ago. There’ve been rumours floating around, and I’m here to set things straight. We can’t let ourselves get distracted by fairy stories.”

Carter knows the words don’t sound like him. He is standing here in the ready room, hot and awkward under the lights, and his voice doesn’t seem to be his own. What is coming out of him are statements that Faulke has agreed to. The Director should be up here himself, but he had thought that it would seem too official and serious. Instead, Carter is at the podium, addressing a crowd of men who would rather be elsewhere. They deserve to be treated better than this. They deserve to be told the truth. 

But this is safer. 

Carter looks at Etienne and Todd, sat down the front. Etienne, still looking pale and drawn after their stint in quarantine, and Todd, with his collar pulled up to hide the ugly bruise on his neck from that thing. They understand the ridiculous necessity of this briefing. “Guy Todd, Raoul Etienne and I were sent to New York to try and make contact with the three-man contingent who had gone missing,” Carter continues. “Francesco Evora, Harvey Lewis and Jiang Lee hadn’t been heard from for 48 hours. Their mission was to take down the Outsiders’ guns. They succeeded. But unfortunately, what we found of them wasn’t good. It would seem that the enemy had cut them down while they waited for evac. It was unavoidable. We can only take comfort in the knowledge that they died for the salvation of their country.”

His men watch him silently. They already know this. There has been no official word until now but Evora, Lewis and Lee have been gone too long for there to be any good news. Soon, their names will be carved onto the KIA wall and they will be remembered that way, even if their bodies will never be recovered. Their bodies - rotting away in the black chasm beneath Grand Central... Carter swallows and pushes down the images. “When Todd, Etienne and I returned from New York, we were detained by Doctor Dresner under the orders of Director Faulke. Grand Central Terminal was overrun by Sleepwalkers. We were not outwardly infected by the virus, but for the sake of safety, we were put into quarantine until we could be sure that we were clean. We are. Dresner is managing the sickness efficiently and working on a cure as we speak. He wanted me to remind you that the tests on personnel entering the base are mandatory. Anyone who has any suspicions about themselves - or any others - should visit the medical bay immediately.”

More suspicion, Carter thinks wryly. But in the corner of the room, Weaver inclines her head approvingly. He knows she isn’t buying this bullshit either, yet at least he is saying all the right things. She has been put there to make sure he does. 

“There’s no need for any more speculation or rumours. That’s what happened out in New York. We need to concentrate on the threats still in front of us. It’s not over yet, gentlemen.”

That is the first honest thing he has said since coming up here. A couple of men nod in agreement, though Carter catches a glimpse of Agent Percy glancing away in irritation. He is still sore at Carter being in the spotlight again (as if he wants to be). For once, Carter empathises with his frustration. “Now, we’re all together,” he continues regardless. “I wanted to run down a few orders of business. A number of distress calls have been transmitted to Officer Chulski. I need men to report to me for the roster. I may have to adjust some squads.”

Just in front of him, Todd suddenly coughs. Etienne looks at him sidelong, but Todd holds up a hand in apology. Carter carries on. “I’ll be visiting Dr Weir later today to replenish our energy clip stock. These shouldn’t be used so liberally on the firing range. Supplies are already limited -“

Another cough. More eyes turn to him this time. 

“-as are medical kits. Director Faulke wanted me to inform you that he’ll be conducting a full inventory soon, and anything missing will be -“

Todd tries to hold in another splutter, but fails. He leans forward in his chair, body shaking. Etienne gives him a firm pat on the back. Carter feels a coil of anxiety tighten in his stomach. “Anything missing will be investigated thoroughly. That will pertain to -“

Todd is suddenly being wracked by a violent fit of coughing. Other agents lean in, but their smacks to his back are only making it worse. “That will pertain to - to - arms and - to - ammunition - and will pertain to -“ Todd has his hand suddenly pressed to his chest. He pants for breath between rasping splutters. “For God’s sake, will someone get Agent Todd some water?”

Someone rises from their seat. But in the next instant, Todd wrenches upright. His face is pallid and damp with sweat. He is no longer coughing, but making little gargling noises, like something is lodged in his throat.

The room tunnels around Carter. He jumps down from the podium and rushes to Todd’s side. His eyes stare up at him. Wide. Confused. Frightened. “Get him on the table,” Carter orders. 

His men immediately snap into action. They hurry to Todd and lift him back onto the table, scattering maps and plans. To Carter’s horror, the violent convulsions in Todd’s throat have spread and taken over the rest of his body. His limbs kick out at some unseen enemy. Carter grabs at him and earns a knee to the ribs. Yet Todd is the one to moan in pain. He is still reaching desperately for his chest. 

“Don’t hold him down!” Weaver says through the crowd. “You’ll make it worse if you do.”

Carter ignores her and shoves a pen between Todd’s teeth, making sure he doesn’t swallow his tongue. Todd spits it out and throws back his head. His groans get louder. “Goddamn it, come on, Todd, stay with me!” Carter hears himself urge. 

Etienne catches his eye across the table. He knows what he’s thinking. The alien on his face. It’s not over yet. 

Todd squirms below him, getting worse. The men grip his arms and legs but he writhes away from them. His eyes widen in utter terror. Jesus Christ, he is still lucid. Help me, help me, his lips form. Carter’s heart is thundering. He has to do something - anything - 

Hot liquid splatters against his face. His men draw away instantly. “What the fuck -“ someone says. 

Carter wipes it off. His hand comes away bright red. A stain leaks through Todd’s shirt, as if something has just punched him from the inside. Carter stares, frozen. 

And then Todd’s mouth opens. The room seems to shake as he screams, high, tormented, horrible. He tosses his head, arches his back, screws up his eyes, sweating and panting like a dying animal. Carter disobeys orders and reaches for him again. The adrenaline rushing through his veins is the only thing keeping him upright. “Goddamn it, help me!” he shouts at the others. 

Todd grabs at Carter’s arms, clawing, ripping at his sweater. That stain on his uniform is getting bigger and bigger. He must have injured himself somehow, must have caught himself when Carter wasn’t watching, but no, Dresner said he was healthy, he said he was fit...

Evora. Oh Jesus fucking Christ, Evora. He had been there in the black cocoon, hanging like bait, chest bloody and ripped open... Like something had punched into him. No. Like something had come out of him. 

It is too late.

Another gush of blood spurts across Carter’s cheeks. Todd drags him in, begging him to help me please goddamn it, commander, help me. Red saliva spits from his mouth. His eyes roll madly. A punctured dam of bodily fluids burst out of his shirt. He is screaming and screaming and so are other agents. They have all scrambled away, pressing themselves against the walls, as if that will help. Todd’s abdomen distends and pulses and Carter can’t breathe, he can’t see, he is nearly choking on the geyser of gore that showers over him. 

It is a mad struggle between them. Carter manages to wrench himself away just in time, before Todd’s chest erupts completely with a loud crack. Carter slips in the blood and catches himself against the wall. At first, he thinks it is Todd’s organs moving. The cavity in him gapes and his hands twitch about it, like they want to push it back together. A long - thing - twitches and whips. Gradually, it is unfolding, intestinal, worm-like. Carter fumbles for his revolver, but his fingers are too wet. The gun clatters to the floor. 

It is alive. A goddamn creature is uncurling from Todd’s chest, raising up its ugly head. Like a snake dancing for its charmer, it unwinds and stares around at the paralysed agents. It looks straight at Carter. Razor-sharp jaws open. A high-pitched scream slams right through his gut. No one can do a thing as it slithers off the table and races from the room. 

Carter fights for his breath. The world rotates around him. He realises vaguely that Etienne is clutching at his arm in a death grip. Blood is splattered across the floor, over the walls, on the chalkboard, even on the ceiling. More than one person is vomiting. And Todd is sprawled out on the table, chest ripped open, ribcage broken outwards, face frozen in permanent horror.

Nausea turns to grief turns to raging anger. Reality slams back into Carter.

He doesn’t know how he gets there but suddenly he is outside the lab. He storms through the doors, not caring who is in his way. Personnel turn to stare at him. Behind, Weaver is shouting at him to come back. Dr Weir takes one look and says, “Good god, Carter, what the hell happened to you?”

Carter reaches the room where they are keeping the Infiltrator. He knows Dresner will not be that far away. The guards catch him around the arms as he tries to force his way in. “What the hell was that thing?!” he screams through the door. “What the hell was it?! What the fuck came out of him?!”

Inside, the Infiltrator turns at the sound of the din he is making. Carter’s wrath bubbles over at the sight of that alien face. He doesn’t even care if Dresner had said the Outsiders had nothing to do with this face-hugging creature. He doesn’t know that. They don’t know anything. “It came out of him! It came out of his chest! What the hell was it? Goddamn it, let me see him! Let me speak to him!”

“Don’t let him through, for God’s sake.” Weaver catches up to them, Weir at her side. “Carter, you need to calm down.”

“He’s dead! That thing killed him! It came out of his goddamn chest! This son of a bitch - this son of a bitch - he knows -“

Now, Dresner has emerged from one of the labs. He takes one look at Carter and freezes. Carter directs his fury on him, pushing at the guards holding him back. “You said he was fine! You said he was safe! It came out of him, Dresner!”

“What the hell is going on here?” Faulke comes hurrying down the corridor, flanked by armed soldiers. He takes in the sight of Carter and hesitates for only a second. “Who’s blood is this? What happened to you, Carter?”

Carter shakes off the hands on him. Weaver steps between him and Faulke. “It’s Agent Todd, sir,” she says. “He’s dead.” 

Faulke glances at the two of them, trying to connect the dots. Slowly, Dresner approaches and the men have to grab at Carter again. “What happened to him?” 

“That thing -“ Carter starts, but Weaver stops him. 

“He’s in the ready room. I don’t know what happened.”

“I’ll go immediately. Heinrich, take Carter to the showers.”

Carter protests, but once more, he is being taken away. 

It is not until he reaches the decontamination showers again, and looks into the mirror, that he realises what he looks like. And it is not until then that the anger suddenly flushes out of him. He sees the blood drenching his face and clothes and hands and hair and his stomach flips. He feels clots of something behind his ears and stuck to his neck, and pulls away chunks of a shredded organ. The protective-suited men have to grip his arms, this time not to hold him back but to hold him up.

They tug off his clothes again. They are heavy with gore, and get stuck as they try to pull them off. More of the stuff smears over him, getting into his mouth and nose. In the end, they cut the rest away.

The water hits him powerfully. He can barely feel it. His eyes defocus under the fierce spray, and all he can see are those images from his nightmare. Evora, Lee and Lewis in the cocoon. Jimmy Russo falling to pieces. Julia and Richard burning. And now, Todd, sprawled on the table, saying help me, goddammit, help me, commander, please...

Carter scrubs frantically at his skin, but it doesn’t help. All those deaths are imprinted on him, curling in his chest like that fucking thing. His breath comes short, sharp. His knees are about to give beneath him. His throat spasms, itching with acid. And still the water comes down. It will never clean him. 

He had told Julia that he would be home soon. He had told Richard that he would always look after him. He had told Todd that everything would be alright.

Now, all their blood washes down the drain.


	6. Hunted

Within hours, Carter returns. Once again, he has been washed and scrubbed and cleaned but no matter what they do, the blood still clings to him, even if it is not visible anymore. And no matter how much he vomits and swills his mouth with Scotch, he can still taste metal and the meat of organs on his tongue. He is partly ashamed of his meltdown, but thinks it is probably allowed. No one gets over somebody’s chest bursting over them, and a goddamn creature coming out of it, with just a shrug. 

He keeps up a front. For the last three years, that has been all he’s done. 

Now, it is as though war has been declared. Faulke, Carter, Weir, Dresner and Weaver stand around Faulke’s office, trying to take control of this crazy train. Time is running thin, and with every second, that creature could be getting further away. 

“Well,” Faulke says, leaning back on his desk and smoking his third cigarette, “it seems we have an unknown organism loose on the base.”

Carter knows he wants him to avoid his accusatory stare, as if he is a student called to the principal’s office. But he bears it without a flinch. It's one thing to struggle with guilt inside - another to admit it outright. “We had been doing well to keep it battened down. The men didn't know about Agent Todd or the creature. Now, after the incident - certainly after Agent Carter’s announcement of it to the entire lab, everyone - everyone - knows something has happened. And the men who have been covering up this Outsider - Zudjari, whatever you want to call it - invasion are now accusing their commanders of covering up something else. In DaSilva’s words - god rest his soul - we’re in deep shit.”

“I'm sorry, sir,” Carter interjects. “We shouldn't be concerned that the men know. Frankly, I don't give a damn if they do or not. The only thing I care about is catching this son of a bitch. And we need all eyes for that.”

Faulke takes another drag and looks out the wide windows at the briefing room below his office. People are working at the computer banks as normal, and tracking the missions that are still on the field, but everyone knows that their minds are still on something much closer to home. “Right,” Faulke says. “We have to capture it. No one has seen the damn thing though.”

“Well,” interjects Dr Weir. “The little blighter is small and quick. And if no one has seen it, where do we think it's gone?”

Faulke sighs. “The same place Dr Dresner’s Silacoids escaped to.”

The ventilation system. Carter resists the urge to swear. The Silacoids are masses of black goo that can reform themselves, and absorb matter - including a few agents who had been unlucky enough to get too close. He had spent half a day tracking the things down in the ducts a few weeks before. It had been hot and stifling and cramped. He had not wanted to recreate the experience.

Now, Faulke looks over at him again. “Carter.”

“I know.”

“Choose one of your agents. I'll have Webb supply you with blueprints and maintenance plans.”

Carter nods. Faulke still blames him for this mess. This is part of his punishment, before they can go through with anything formal. If it gets to that. 

“Do what you have to to bring it back, Carter. We don't know what it can do.”

“How lethal a force are we talking about here?”

He doesn't miss the little glance Faulke gives Dresner. The doctor clears his throat. “I don't want it killed, Director,” he says without a hint of shame. 

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“William, this is something that we’ve never seen before. I’ve discussed the opportunities we may have with it. And you were the one who brought it to the base -“

“Not to study it. And if I knew it was going to do this...”

“Carter’s right,” Weaver chimes in. “This thing incubated inside the chest of a live human being. I think that’s all we need to know about it.”

Dresner has not given up, though. He looks to Faulke with the gaze of someone who knows he will get his way. Faulke gives a sigh of disgust, as if he cannot believe what he is agreeing to, and angrily stubs out his cigarette. The smoke comes out of his lungs in a burst. “Fine. Carter, find the goddamn thing, bring it to Dresner and I - and Dr Weir - and we’ll decide what to do with it then.”

Carter doesn’t like it, but he cannot do anything more than nod. He is dismissed back down to the ready room to rejoin his agents. As he closes the door, Faulke lights up another cigarette.

***

The ready room has been cleared out. The doors are locked, with little innocuous signs outside saying ‘Caution: Cleaning in Progress’. The windows haven’t been blanked out though, so everyone can see the hazmat-suited men inside, wiping down the floors and walls with mops and towels. Red smears scar everything in sight. Some of the soldiers, intermixed with his agents, have huddled around, murmuring amongst themselves. Their eyes turn to him as he approaches. Agent Percy is amongst them. 

Carter takes him aside. He can’t help noticing how he looks him up and down, as though his own chest is about to erupt. “Where’s Agent Etienne?” he asks.

A weird laugh comes out of Percy. “Seriously, commander? After all that’s happened, you come back to us and all you can say is: where’s Agent Etienne? Jesus Christ -“

“Remember yourself, agent.”

“That whole thing was fucking unnatural, commander. There was something living inside Todd, and it broke his ribs to come out. There’s fucking bits of him all over the fucking room.”

“We all saw, agent.”

Percy shakes his head. He’s looking for some explanation, and someone to blame, and Carter is the nearest target. He imagines Percy won’t be the last one to put this on his shoulders. “People are talking. They’re saying that when you came back to the base, there was something on Agent Todd’s face. Some kind of creature. And you brought him in. You knew it was dangerous. You should have left him outside. But no, you had to be the hero again, Carter. You had to be the fucking hero. And now what? We might all be dead for it.”

Carter bears his anger without a flinch. It is nothing compared to watching all that blood drip down the drain. “Where’s Agent Etienne?” he says again. 

Percy breathes out. The fight suddenly drains out of him now he sees it has not affected Carter. He crosses his arms and draws himself together. “He refuses to join us. Can you blame him? He’s at the shooting range. He’s about to crack up completely, commander. If you deal with him in your usual oh so subtle way, he’ll probably tip right over. One step away from being a fucking basket case. Haven’t we lost enough men?”

“Are you done?”

“No. I’m not done. This whole thing - it’ll never be done. You just made it a whole lot harder.”

Carter ignores him. He is already halfway down the corridor, when Percy makes one more attempt at a barb. “We all know your record, commander! We all know your past! Just don’t drag us down with you!” 

Carter keeps going. 

The firing range is echoing with the sound of intermittent shots. When Carter enters, quartermaster Webb, at the side, gives him a sidelong, wary look. Carter nods at him and he understands what he means. He and Etienne are left alone.

He notices his agent isn't using one of the alien weapons - this is not the three-burst shooting of the laser pulse gun or the hot fizz of the lightning cannon. This is the familiar sound of an M-14 rifle, angry, short shots. Etienne is staring out into the range, his eyes vacant. He is loading and firing like one of the robots from the Twilight Zone. In front of him, at the twenty-five yard distance, there are three dead Sectoids. His accuracy is worse than Carter has ever seen it. Holes pepper the aliens in non-lethal places. One looks like it has been left to bleed to death. 

Maybe he's doing it deliberately. Agent Raoul Etienne hardly ever misses his target. That's why Carter has taken him out on nearly every field mission.

He approaches just as another creature is let loose. “Agent,” Carter says. Etienne does not respond. He blasts the alien in the left limb and it scrambles back. “Etienne.” A hit to the right leg this time. The thing twists in pain, staggering over its fallen brethren. “Agent Etienne, stop.”

The next shot slams the thing down on its back. Black blood is spilling onto the floor now. Carter grits his teeth. He doesn't care if Etienne blasts every one of their little pet aliens to hell, but now is not the time.

Carter pulls his own revolver from its holster and shoots the Sectoid between the bulging eyes. It collapses. “Raoul,” he says now, throwing away formality. “I need you. We’ve got a mission. You can't hide out here.”

Etienne moves away. He hangs the rifle back up on the rack and sits down on the bench. Now he doesn’t have his gun in his hands, Carter notices they are shaking. “Are you listening to me, agent?” 

He turns away. Carter sighs. “Etienne, I don’t have time for this. You either come with me now willingly or I -“

“It came out of his chest, commander!” Etienne bursts out. Carter is surprised at his much his voice shakes. The anger in it seems to be the only thing keeping it together. “He was fine - I talked with him before - he only had a sore throat and that - that bruise - but then that - thing - that thing - out of his chest, his chest - and you - you had his blood all over you - it was everywhere -“

“Calm down. For God’s sake, everyone has lost their head.” 

“He was fine,” Etienne repeats. “What if we have it too? We were there with him. What if -“

“There’s nothing wrong with us, agent. Dresner said that what happened to Todd must have been something to do with that thing on his face.” He doesn’t tell Etienne everything Dr Dresner had suggested before the council of war. The face-hugging creature must have planted something inside of him that wasn’t detected by the scanners, and that parasite fed off his internal organs. It grew and grew and grew until... Carter pushes the sickening images down again. “Now, we have a job to do. I need you. We need to find this little bastard.”

Etienne lingers like a petulant child. He sits, breath stuttering, eyes still unfocused, as though he is trying to ignore Carter, trying to ignore everything. Carter leans closer. “Etienne, listen to me. Right now, we have to stay on track. I need you to keep it together. We started this thing, and now, we’re gonna finish it. And us two - we’re the best chance this base has. We were there with Todd, and we saw what had happened to Grand Central. We need to do something. Otherwise it's like Todd died for nothing.”

He died for nothing anyway, Carter thinks. But he doesn't let Etienne know he's thinking it. Etienne stares out at the pile of dead creatures, mind whirring. “It’s still in the base somewhere,” he says, as if only just registering Carter’s orders. “It’s small, and quick. It could be anywhere.”

For the first time, Carter realises that Agent Raoul Etienne, who has followed him into so many alien-choked suburban battlefields, is actually scared. Not just shaken, but scared. Carter can’t let him stew too long in that. “Yeah,” he says. “But that son of a bitch isn’t gonna last long. I see it, and it’s dead. We’ve got a chance to finish this now, agent.”

Something has shifted inside of the agent. Maybe he realises that he is taking his vengeance out on the wrong target. It is not these Sectoids he needs to fight anymore, it is this unknown thing, prowling out of sight. 

After a while, he sighs and stands up. “Yes, commander,” he says. Carter nods.

It's time to hunt this thing down. 

***

He feels like a Thanksgiving turkey which has been stuffed in an oven. Carter has stripped off all his heavy weaponry, his backpack, and extra equipment, but he cannot take off his Venn Brace. Every time he moves, it scrapes against the metal ventilation panels, and sets his teeth on edge. Add to that the sweltering temperature in here and he damns the day he ever agreed to be a part of this Bureau.

But worst of all is the knowledge of what might be in here with him. At every tight corner, he expects to see that thing suddenly there. Who knows what the hell it can do? Just like Weaver and Dresner had said, it had incubated inside Todd’s chest, and fed off him. If that’s what it does when it’s confined, Carter thinks, what will it do out of its cage?

The radio suddenly crackles. Carter draws a sharp breath, then has to squirm onto his side to fish it out. “Commander,” Etienne says. He has been following him around outside the vents, occasionally shining a flashlight through the grilles when it gets too murky. “Director Faulke says he heard something in the ducts above the hangar offices.”

Carter clears his throat. It feels like there is ten years worth of dust in it. “Where the hell are we now, agent?”

“In the leisure room beside the briefing area.”

Well, that could be worse. They’re not too far away. “Alright. Guide me.”

Spurred by Etienne’s instructions from the blueprints, Carter crawls on. His elbows are already aching and knees scraped. He keeps thinking he’s going to fall straight through the metal sheeting. He is 42 years old, no way near as young as some of his agents, Etienne, for instance. But Carter had privately known he would never get the damn job done. Now, it’s like Etienne’s fright has flipped something inside of him, and he keeps lapsing into his native French when saying where to go. 

They are halfway down the corridor, so Etienne says, when he spots something different to the endless scuffed grey walls. “Keep going ahead, commander,” Etienne suggests, after he must hear his bangs and crashes stop. 

“Wait.”

Etienne’s voice immediately shuts up. The silence, after the creaking ducts and his own loud movements, is suddenly deafening. Carter reaches back for the rudimentary net Weir has given him. It looks even more ridiculous now, but any bullets would have ricocheted and damaged the systems.

The smear on the floor can’t be anything but blood. It starts thick and bright, then trails off to smears, like something has been dragged. Carter crawls forward on his elbows. “I think we might be getting near our little friend,” he says.

“Can you see it, commander?”

“No. But he’s left a little gift for us. Blood, and it doesn’t look that old. I’m gonna follow it.”

He isn’t shocked at the direction it leads him in. Etienne tells him they are drawing closer to the hangar, right where Faulke had heard the movement. Soon, the trail is nothing more than little spots, but he keeps going. And just above the first office room, there is another surprise waiting for him. 

At first, he doesn’t know what he’s looking at. Something is lying on the floor. He watches carefully, but it doesn’t move, not even an inch. Gradually, Carter edges forward again. It must only be a few seconds he waits there, though it feels like an age. He reaches to pick it up on the end of his gun. “Oh, Jesus Christ,” he mutters.

They’re all waiting for him when he returns, covered in dust, sweating, the net in front of him. Dresner reaches in with gloved hands and lays their prize out on the nearby table. It obviously isn’t what he was expecting. “What the hell is that?” Faulke asks.

“It’s - it’s a shedded skin,” Dresner breathes. Carter’s fears are confirmed.

“A shedded skin? Like a snake?” But then the dots connect. “No. It can’t be possible. You’re suggesting that this thing - developed?”

“Or grew,” Weir comments. “Who are we to say what’s possible and what isn’t?”

“So what the hell has it grown into?”

“I don’t know,” Dresner admits.

Everyone is silent. Suddenly, each strain of the ventilation shafts, or sound in the walls, seems to be the newly morphed body of that creature. They can’t even imagine it anymore. It has assumed a nameless, shapeless kind of horror. 

“Well, whatever it is,” Faulke finally says, “it’s still loose on the base. I don’t want any messing around anymore. We’re looking at a potential biohazard. Everyone has to have it as their highest priority. No one leaves and no one comes in until it’s captured. And killed.”

This time, Dresner does not dare to protest. Faulke does not need to give any other instructions. This thing is now just as dangerous as the aliens outside the base, and they are trapped here alongside it. No one says it, but Carter can see it in each of their expressions. The hunters are suddenly in danger of becoming the hunted.


	7. The Fox in the Hen House

Carter cannot tell if he is awake or asleep. It is almost as though his body is in one place, and his mind is in another. He is both looking down on something, and inhabiting it, making it move while wondering what it will do next. It prowls in some unknown darkness, occasionally flitting past a light source, before retreating to the shadows again. In the distance, he can hear muffled voices, but he cannot make out any words - none he understands, anyway. It lurks and then runs and then hides, keeping to its own world. Carter knows he doesn’t want to be near it, yet somehow, he also knows that he cannot stay away from it.

He cannot stay away from it.

He cannot stay - away...

An alarm. Carter is suddenly wide awake. He’s in DaSilva’s office, cramped on the small sofa again, and someone is knocking on the window. His mind quickly cycles through the past couple of hours - Etienne in the ready room, the discussion of their plans, his gruelling crawl through the vents. Faulke is rapping on the glass impatiently, needing him there now. 

Carter hurries into the corridor. Faulke’s face is drawn, the wrinkles seeming deeper and his hair more silver, all in the course of a single day. “An alarm has gone off near the Skyranger pad,” he cuts to the chase, and somehow Carter knows he was going to say that. “Get down there. Take Etienne.”

Etienne has quickly become the agent he is solely reliant on. They are acting as the main task force against this new creature. It’s easier like that. They have both seen the same things, both experienced the same shit, even if they’re dealing with it in different ways. Now, he finds Etienne in the ready room and doesn’t even have to say a word for him to come running. He looks older too, far more than his 30 years. 

Carter repeats what Faulke has said as they go down in the elevator. Etienne takes it without a flinch. He has sorted himself out a little since the incident, and his subsequent freak-out, but this entirely stoic, devoid-of-emotion act is unlike him. He just nods silently and makes sure his M-14 - again, not an Outsider weapon - is primed. Carter prepares himself for whatever is waiting at the bottom of this short shaft, trying not to think of what happened the last time they were in an elevator. 

The doors open onto the helicopter pad. The Skyranger is waiting there, grounded until further notice, after having been nearly stripped apart to check for infection and contaminants. A couple of engineers turn to them as they come near. One points them to an adjoining maintenance room.

Carter braces himself as he and Etienne go through the ajar door. What he finds is far more mundane that the horrific scenes he has built in his head. There is an overturned tool shelf and a few scattered boxes beneath an open ventilation duct, its grille on the floor. Two agents stand around, waiting for them. Russo and Carradine. The looks on their faces are enough to remind Carter how serious this is.

“What happened?” Carter asks. 

Russo steps forward. “We saw it,” he says. “We saw - something. It was here. And then it was gone.”

“What exactly did you see?”

“I - I don’t know. It was so fast. We saw something.”

Carter turns to Carradine. “You both saw it?”

Carradine nods. “I don’t know what the hell it was. It didn’t move like an Outsider. It was more...animal. But like a shadow.”

Carter isn’t getting very far here. “It went into the ventilation system?”

They both nod. 

“And it hasn’t returned?”

“No, sir. We’d know if it had.”

Carter steps over the boxes and peers up into the vent shaft. It is dark in there, and that is about it. Even a quick flash of his torch doesn’t reveal anything else. “You didn’t see what it looked like?”

“Only very quickly. But nothing definite. It was more like a shadow, and not like that - thing - in the ready room.”

“How big?”

Russo and Carradine glance at each other. Carter knows the creature has grown so imagines something about the size of a pet dog. His stomach drops when Carradine says, “as big as a man.”

“No,” Russo clarifies. “Bigger.”

***

Faulke is waiting for them at the top of the elevator. His jaw is set so firm that Carter thinks it might crack as he tells him, “they saw something go into the vents. They didn’t see what, but it was big. Bigger than a full-grown man.”

Faulke puts a weary hand to his head. “What the hell are we dealing with here?” he mutters, half to himself, then takes a level breath. “Okay, Carter. Come with me. We need to decide what to do. Just me and you this time.”

They climb the stairs once more to Faulke’s office. He dismisses his secretary and closes the door behind them. Carter can’t help noticing how he locks it. Faulke crosses the room and looks down over the briefing room. Just a couple of days before, he had control over this entire operation. Now, Carter knows, because of one fox in the hen house, he is swiftly losing it. “Carter, you have to realise something,” he says firmly. “Whatever happens now... It’s on your head. You brought a sick, infected agent back from New York. You somehow convinced me to let him in. You insisted we care for him. I know your past and what happened to you and I don’t need a psychologist’s degree to understand why you acted like you did but... This is all on you.”

Carter hadn’t been expecting this. He watches Faulke, deadly serious, drawn tighter than a bowstring. “You gave him entry, Director,” he says slowly. Faulke shakes his head with an exasperated sigh.

“Carter, I didn’t intend to. I am the commander of this institute, dealing with extraterrestrials is my speciality. I did not intend to break every single one of my protocol rules for this one agent. I did not.”

Carter frowns. But you did, he wants to say. How is this entirely on my shoulders? 

“And don’t think it was your guilty conscience that I was swayed by. My job involves making hard decisions and detaching myself from personal affairs. As an agent, you should know that full well. But -“ He pauses, obviously trying to explain something that he, himself, doesn’t quite understand. “I don’t know what happened. I will admit that, Carter. I intended to say no. I intended to forbid you all any entrance. But what came out of my mouth - that wasn’t what I meant. And every time I tried to retract it, something stopped me.”

Carter tries to wrap his head around that. He finds himself smiling sardonically. If this is some kind of bullshit way for the Director to cover his own mistake, then it isn’t working. Why doesn’t he just come right out and admit his guilt, rather than make up some wild lie? “But you did give us entry, Director,” he says again.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Carter. I didn’t intend to!” Faulke takes another breath and composes himself. He swipes off his glasses and begins to clean them, just for something for his hands to do. “What happened to Todd... I couldn’t have predicted that. This is far different from anything I have ever dealt with before. Even Dresner admits that.” 

Carter wants to dwell more on this blame which is being slung haphazardly around the room, but they need to move on. “What are our options, Director?”

“I’m asking you, Carter. You brought the thing here.”

“Russo and Carradine said they saw it go up into the vents. I don’t know how something that large could fit, but I don't want to go up there again or send any of my agents up. If the creature is as big as they say, it's too dangerous. We need to review security footage and try and identify it coming out of the ducts. Then we need to try and lure it out and -“ He wants to say ‘kill it’ but he still doesn't know if that is on the agenda. “We already know that it isn't anything like the Outsiders. I don't think it’s related, in any way, to them.”

Faulke nods. “It isn't anything remotely like what I've dealt with before,” he concedes. “In this invasion, I've planned attacks against armies, with clear leaders and hierarchy in their ranks. This is - whatever it is, this creature is a rogue. We need to…” He sighs and looks out the window again, as if someone is watching. “It needs to be eliminated.”

“I agree.”

Faulke seems to breathe a little easier at the decision. He puts on his glasses again and lights a cigarette. “That's your task, Carter,” he says. “Though I don't think conventional weapons are going to cut it. You know what Dresner said about even that - that small thing that was on Agent Todd’s face - it was a resilient son of a bitch. You should go and talk with Weir. He must have something in his arsenal.”

“Yes, sir.”

Carter is glad to be dismissed - and also glad to get the assignment he has been pushing for ever since the incident. The unspoken truth of that jams at the back of his head. You should have killed it before. You should have put Todd out of his coma-induced misery. But, still, the thought at the forefront of his mind is: you did the right thing. Todd had to be in here.

This thing has to be in here. 

It has to be in here.

Carter pushes down the disturbing conviction that has just stirred in him. He marches through the briefing room, ignoring the looks he is getting, past DaSilva’s office and into the junction connecting the hub to rest of the base. Orange lines on the floor guide the way to the labs. Carter has lost count of the times he has been down this route in the past day, back and forth to meet Weir and Dresner. He can't help noticing how Faulke is ignoring Dresner’s judgement on this new decision. The creature has to be eliminated. 

He approaches the automatic doors that lead to the small decontamination chamber. This is not at the same level as those showers he has had to endure twice now. Two men usually watch over this connecting hall behind reinforced glass, activating the brief bursts of decontaminant before entering the sterile labs, like a high-tech version of anti-bacterial at hospital wards.

Carter enters. The first sign that something is wrong is when the doors don’t close behind him. He looks back, but the red light that announces ‘decontamination in progress’ has not even come on. “Hey,” he begins, turning to the glass that separates the chamber from the small control room. His stomach clenches. “Shit.”

He goes for the opposite doors. A few harsh punches on it and two white-robed scientists come running. They look at him with bewilderment and worry, before he mimes opening the doors. One slams the emergency override. 

“Who was the last person to come through here?” he asks, immediately going for the control room. “How long ago?”

“Uh - five, ten minutes ago?” 

“You haven’t heard anything from in here?”

“No, sir.”

Carter makes one of the men enter the code to open it up. They draw a sharp breath as he pushes in the door. It is empty. Both of the operators have disappeared, not even leaving an overturned chair or a fallen piece of paperwork. There is no sign of a struggle. Only another open vent shaft. 

Carter, for the second time in an hour, peers up into the metallic darkness. Other scientists have gathered behind him now, wondering what the chaos is about. He gathers from their mutterings that they hadn’t heard a thing before. How can two men just disappear in complete silence? 

A wet smear hangs over the edge of the hole. Carter flashes a light at it. It looks viscous and thick, like the trail of some huge snail. As he watches, it dribbles out and down onto the floor. He realises a puddle has started to grow. No Outsider he has dealt with has ever left residue like that. The Silacoids are the only creatures that emit anything resembling a liquid, and that is that oozing black goo, not this transparent stuff. 

He backs off, feeling slightly nauseous. “Surveillance footage,” he says. “I need to access the footage.”

He spends the next fifteen minutes pacing around a tiny room with Faulke as three technicians rewind and fast-forward the security tapes, trying to find the right moment. The nearest camera is a bulky one mounted high in the decontamination chamber itself, giving a view of the small hall and the control room. Carter keeps looking at the screen, seeing the time stamp scroll through the hours as people quickly filter in and out. Faulke pokes his head out the door every few minutes, conversing with what seems like the whole base - finding out further details on the missing operators, trying to work out what happened around their disappearance, asking Weir if he has analysed the residue yet. He is not getting very far with any of it. All they know are the names of the men - Perry and Ventriss, soon to be struck off the ever-shrinking roster.

Finally, the technicians call them back. “Here,” one of them says and points to the corner of the screen. Carter leans close. The footage is very grainy and extremely high-contrast, but he can make out Perry and Ventriss behind the glass. The time indicates it is 11.49. As it changes to 11.50, something falls down behind them. The vent grille. Carter realises he is holding his breath, fists clenched on the console desk. One of the operators turns. He freezes so abruptly that Carter thinks the footage has stalled. 

Then something else drops into the screen. As big as a man. No, bigger.

Everything happens too quickly. The first operator lurches forward suddenly and slams onto the control deck. His partner scrambles out of shot. That black shadow looms. The man against the control deck wrenches his head around, then is thrown forward again. A blast of steam pours into the decontamination chamber as his chest slams the button. Everything is obscured. There are only the flashes of shadows through the glass and haze. By the time the decontaminant has dissipated, the control room is empty.

Carter goes cold. He looks back at Faulke who shakes his head. Carter tries quickly to process what he’s seen. ‘Nothing’ is the answer. The footage has only confirmed Russo and Carradine’s size estimate. 

Faulke pulls him out of the room and out of earshot of any others. He is pale with tension again. He seems to be able to give another long speech. 

But in the end all he says is, “kill it.”


	8. Red Alert

The next alarm goes off a few hours later. Since leaving the surveillance room and getting the orders from Faulke, Carter has spent the rest of the morning browsing weapons, suggesting adjustments without really knowing what he is adjusting them for, firing into crash-test dummies, and realising that they will be nothing like the tough hide of this new threat. He has taken out a few Sectoids but Dresner has assured him that the creature (now pessimistically called ‘the rogue’) is entirely different from them.

Faulke has not told the ageing doctor that Carter will be trying to kill the rogue, although by the amount of weapons fire coming from the lower labs, he should know. By any account, he doesn’t interfere.

When the alert comes, Carter already has Weir’s adapted pulse rifle in his hands. He slings it around his back on the strap and grabs the other weapon he has repeatedly returned to - the portable flamethrower. All animals retreat at fire, Weir had said.

Agents are already prepping in the ready room. Faulke has hardly left the place since earlier that morning, giving orders, trying to finalise a battle plan with what little they have to go on. Small teams have been sent out to the multiple floors of the institute, sweeping carefully to flush out any signs of the invader. Vents and access hatches are slowly being closed off around the base, trying to trap the creature, or at least guide it to an area where they can deal with it. So far it has evaded them.

So far.

“Below the infirmary,” Faulke says. “Russo and Carradine were down there.” 

Carter huffs at the irony of it. “They’re not having a very good day.”

Etienne goes with him, of course, along with Alexis and Templeton. They crowd into the elevator and down past the Skyranger pad, then into the weaving maze of the infirmary. No one says a word. Carter knows they are all listening for the slightest hint of anything in the walls or ceiling above. This kind of alertness used to be reserved only for the missions on the field. Now, every noise is a potential danger. Every whine of the building’s internal workings is that creature. Carter can feel paranoia creeping over his skin. He has spent the last day thinking there is something permanently looking over his shoulder.

They reach the stairs going into the bowels of the base. The corridor reaches into the distance, dipping into fluctuating darkness. The alarm sounds have stopped, but the red lights are still scything over the walls. Carter has assumed the alert was a distress signal from Russo and Carradine. He wonders now if they have set it off to lure the creature. Either way, he isn’t taking any chances. He takes the stairs first, gripping the pulse rifle while feeling the weight of the flamethrower on his back.

There is dead silence down here. The rooms have been cleared of personnel to allow the sweep and all critical patients have been moved into the main infirmary upstairs. The wards are eerily empty, the lights casting dancing shadows through them, morphing gurneys and life-support machines into hiding creatures. Carter and Etienne take one side of the wide corridor, and Alexis and Templeton take the other, scanning the rooms. Russo, Carradine, where the hell are you?

They reach a junction. Alexis and Templeton head right, and Carter and Etienne go left, planning to regroup at the surgical centre further on. Down here, side-doors have been closed and locked. It is a good sign. Maybe Russo and Carradine had tried to guide the thing this way. Carter keeps his eyes forward, wishing the lights below the sweeping red alert were brighter. He tries his flashlight, but it doesn’t make things much better. He has to constantly try to adjust between darkness and flashing scarlet. In the brief seconds of shadow, he swears he sees movement - something darting around a corner, skittering along the walls... It is always an illusion, but it makes his chest tighten. Sweat beads at his forehead. Come on, Carter, for fuck’s sake.

He thinks of Russo and Carradine, alone, down here, possibly with that thing. Too many people have already suffered. Perry and Ventriss going missing, Todd’s death, and further back, in the dripping cocoon of M42 - Evora sharing the same terrible fate, Lee, hung up and knowing that he was about to too, Lewis cut down by the elevator, so close to escaping... Too many. Carter keeps moving.

They turn a sharp corner. And it is then that Carter feels something shoot up his spine, as if he has just stepped on a power cable. The feeling is so fierce that he gasps. As quick as it came, it leaves again. Etienne turns to him. “Commander?” he asks.

“It’s this way,” Carter hears himself say, and instantly wonders how he knows so surely.

But now they are walking quicker down the corridor. One door - open, unlike the others - is calling him. The alert lights are further apart down here. Carter lets his rifle pierce the darkness first. Something clatters in the room they’re going towards.

They both stop dead. It sounds like a tray or something metallic clanging to the floor. The noise is deafening in the silence. Carter realises his breath is catching. He makes sure the flamethrower is close to hand.

He takes a step forward. His foot immediately slips. As the lights scythe around again, he sees something slick and wet on the ground. The same kind of liquid that was clinging to the decontamination control room vent. It is trailing into the room, glistening in the crimson glow. Carter’s heart clenches. It’s here. It’s fucking here. The knowledge clings to him like a parasite.

He walks in slowly. Etienne follows.

Three things happen at once. The alarm lights suddenly go off, plunging the room into darkness. Something heavy falls to the floor. Etienne shouts.

Carter slams his back against the wall. His head bounces onto a cabinet, making his ears sing. He aims the rifle blindly into the shadows. Etienne has vanished. At any second, he expects that thing to emerge and one or both of them to disappear like Perry and Ventriss did.

The minutes tick by. There is nothing. Only Carter’s pulse thundering in his ears. “Etienne?” he finally asks into the void.

There is a choking noise from across the room. “Commander, the hell was that?” Etienne’s fractured voice spits. “Something fell -“

Carter slowly pushes himself away from the wall. There are no other sounds in the room. He fumbles for his flashlight and directs it to the floor. “F-fuck!”

Russo stares back at him. His head is twisted toward Carter, but his body is facing Etienne. Blood is splattered over the ground where he has obviously just fallen from the vent in a broken heap. His arm reaches out desperately, hand slick with that strange liquid. Carter looks away. Across from him, Etienne can’t stop staring at Russo’s chest. He walks over, just to stop Russo’s dead eyes boring into him. He immediately wishes he hadn’t. A big pit has been torn from the base of his neck to the concave, tattered dip of his sternum, revealing tendrils of muscle and shredded skin. “Jesus Christ,” Carter mutters. It is like Lewis all over again.

Etienne gasps for a breath. Carter sees he is on the floor, back pressed to the wall. “Where’s Carradine?” he asks.

They find him not far from Russo. He is slumped beneath an overturned table, clutching his pistol. A large ragged hole is punctured in his forehead, far bigger than a bullet injury. Bits of grey matter dot his slack face. “My god,” Carter sighs. “What the hell is this thing?”

Etienne slowly clambers to his feet again. “Commander,” he says simply. Carter hears his unspoken question. What do we do now?

“Get to the surgical centre,” Carter orders. “We’ll regroup with Templeton and Alexis, then...then get someone down here to deal with these poor bast-“

Something falls in the shrouded corner. Carter stiffens. This time, it isn’t just trays clattering. Sounds of movement filter out of the blackness. It is wet and heavy, like a water-logged body crawling from a lake. Ragged breaths fill the room. The silence is split by a bone-chilling scream.

“Out!” Carter shouts. Etienne doesn’t have to be told twice. He staggers for the door, clawing the walls in the dark. Carter backs away. Impulsively, his finger jams the trigger of the flamethrower. The room is engulfed with a whoosh of fire. In the blinding flash, he sees a shadow looming over him, standing on two back legs, made of dripping black leathery skin, jagged with tubes and exposed skeletal structures. It doesn’t even flinch.

He retreats. He and Etienne slide over the slime and into the corridor. Etienne reaches for the door and with one tug, slams it back. A heavy body collides with the other side. Claws rake at the wood, interspersed with guttural, animal cries.

“Go, go!” Carter urges. 

“What the hell was -“

“Go!”

They hurry through the halls, the wails of that thing following them the whole way. Carter fumbles with the two-way radio, linking him up with Faulke topside. His hands are shaking violently. “Director,” he strains. “It’s here. We’ve got it trapped in a room -“

“You saw it? It’s trapped?”

“Yeah. Yeah. But the vents are open. It’s taking victims into it. It’s killing them randomly. Russo and Carradine are dead.”

“Goddammit, Carter. You let it escape?”

“It’s using the fucking vents, Director. It killed Russo and Carradine before they could seal it off. The fire didn’t do a goddamn thing. I’m regrouping with Templeton and Alexis, we can go back and -“

But the cries have died behind them. Up above, the internal structures of the base ache as the creature skitters through them like a cancer. Carter swears. He knows he should have tried harder to kill it. He had choked. He had fucking choked.

“I’m regrouping with Templeton and Alexis,” he repeats, then turns off the radio.

Templeton and Alexis meet them in the surgical centre, as planned. They are as pale and haggard as Carter imagines he and Etienne look. Alexis has that thick saliva dripping over his left shoulder. “Russo and Carradine are dead,” Carter says.

“And two other agents,” Templeton reports. “In the laundry room. It ain’t pretty.”

Carter swallows. He is sweating like a rookie, that strange electric feeling still sparking down his spine. It is hard to ignore. “How many men were sent down here?” he asks.

“Six, sir.”

“Where are the other two?” 

“Gone, sir. Gone.”

Just like Perry and Ventriss. Carter catches his breath. For a moment, he feels utterly lost. He is standing in the middle of the most fucked-up game of cat and mouse, and he has been the one to lead the cat right into the run. The mice are scattering, and the cat is fat, happy and basking in how goddamn easy it is. It is making his mind twist itself into knots.

Above, the vents creak. Carter feels his heart surge again, and it almost like he can hear the creature screaming in his head, drawing its claws along his veins. He forces it out.

“Back to the ready room,” he says. “Now. Before we lose anyone else.”

***

“He’s through here, Carter. He’s been told you’re coming. But, truthfully, I don’t think he’ll have anything useful to say to you. This thing is -“

“Different, I know. It’s a rogue. No one knows what the hell it is. I know, Doc. I know.”

Carter stops at the doors, guarded as always by Officer Rose and another marine he can’t remember the name of. Beyond, he can make out the dimly-lit lab where the Infiltrator is being held. More soldiers stand, armed, in there. He can’t shake the creeping feeling that they are not there for the Infiltrator. They are there for Carter. He is struggling to keep a handle on the anger bubbling in his chest. Every time he thinks of the creature in the base, he feels something come out of place within him, something jarring and chilling like nails on a blackboard. He has to stop letting his emotions affect others.

You are lashing out at them to stop lashing out at yourself, a voice in his head says. He pushes it down once more. All he has to dwell on now is the Infiltrator. “I’m giving you the conversation you’ve been wanting,” Faulke had said. “Talk to him. But not like last time.”

Last time had been in the early days of Carter’s time at the base. Faulke had sent him to interrogate the Infiltrator and find out what he knew about the invasion - or rather, what he was willing to give up about it. Carter is no stranger to interrogation. But he is used to talking to actual humans who he can decipher. The Zudjari forces are from another planet. Literally. Frustrated by the Infiltrator’s lack of cooperation, Carter had resorted to force to make it talk. Faulke had not been pleased to see the black blood on his hands.

Now, he is back. The doors slide open and the Infiltrator, sat on one of the hospital beds, looks up. The dim lights catch the stark dolls’ eyes set into its grey face. Even with all its armour stripped from it and its guns taken away, it still looks imposing. It is an elite soldier in Origin’s ranks, trained and brainwashed into combatting the humans by any means. Carter has come across deluded forces during the war, but nothing like this. Not things that take the form of other humans and then slaughter his fellow agents.

Still, the Infiltrator has been calmer since they ripped that chip out of its head. And Carter is surprised to note that, this time, there are no restraints on it.

“Comfortable?” he asks as the doors close behind him.

The Infiltrator watches him and then, in perfect English, rattling almost mechanically from that ugly vertical mouth, says, “yes, William Carter. Thank you.”

“You know why I'm here, don't you?”

“I've heard the chaos outside. And my guards keep talking about the creature.”

“There's not ‘chaos’ outside,” Carter says defensively. He breathes out, pushing down the irritation. “What do you know about it? The creature?”

The Infiltrator pauses. Carter can feel those unsettling eyes drawing all over him. “I know nothing of the creature.”

“Don't lie.”

“How can you tell I'm lying, William Carter? I don't possess the signs humans do when they lie. How do you know I am even capable of lying?”

“Because you're a traitorous son of a bitch whose fellow soldiers are killing my men and trying to invade our world, and I don't trust a single world that comes out of your mouth. I'll be asking the questions. What do you know about the creature?”

“I know nothing of the creature.”

“And how about your boss, Origin? We found eggs in New York, right underneath the feet of his Outsider forces. I doubt he would have come halfway across space and then not see something right in front of him. He's all-powerful, all-knowing, right?”

“No. That is our Mosaic network. I told you this before, William Carter.”

That first conversation seems a million years ago now. After some force, the Infiltrator had revealed the network that connected all of the Outsiders - Mosaic, engineered through some unknown source by Origin, their supreme leader. The chip Dresner and Weir had torn from the back of the Infiltrator’s head was a link to that web, telling the alien soldiers exactly what to think and do. By yanking out the machine piece, for the first time in its life, the humans had helped to free the Infiltrator.

“The structure in New York wasn't new,” Carter continues. “Someone must have known something. I lost three agents to that shit, and there were more missing people there than I could count.”

“I have no knowledge of this structure, William Carter. You have seen what we are trying to do. We have organisation and discipline, and our designs have not failed us. Why would we change that?”

“I told you I'm asking the questions. You've travelled across space to reach us. You haven't come across anything like this creature before?”

“No. It is a rogue, unlike our hierarchy. Untameable. Uncontrolled.”

Carter is unnerved that the Infiltrator has chosen that word to describe the creature too. It is proving that Dresner might be right about this whole thing. Carter had to see that for himself. “A rogue,” he says. “But a rogue from where? Before you arrived, New York did not have a designated borough for ETs. Now, they’re crawling everywhere.”

The Infiltrator watches him carefully. “What do you know about it, William Carter? The odds of me knowing something and you knowing something are even.”

Carter sighs. “Okay, okay. We’re not getting anywhere here.”

He is about to leave when the Infiltrator stops him right at the door. “Do you feel it going around the Base, William Carter?”

He stops dead. At first, he thinks it is just that nagging voice in his head, those intrusive thoughts that keep popping up. But he can still feel eyes in his back, waiting expectantly. Slowly, against his better judgement, he turns. The Infiltrator’s gaze does not shift for one second. It had said to Carter that he cannot tell if it is lying. Carter knows that it will be able to tell if he is lying.

But he doesn't even have to say a word.

“We are all prisoners to Mosaic. It controls us all and tells us what to think and do. When your scientists pulled out the chip, you released me from that. I just want my people to be free. You would have made a good soldier in our ranks.”

Carter swallows past the tightness in his throat. “You know nothing about me,” he says weakly.

The Infiltrator considers him. “There was a ship,” he eventually remarks. “It was very far out in our journeys. Origin took a great interest in it and its cargo. That is all I know. I hope you will trust me in that, William Carter.”

“What was on that ship?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did he bring back the ship?”

“No. Only the cargo.”

Some of the dots begin to connect in Carter’s head. But only some. The rest swarm nonsensically in his head. This whole thing is fucked up, that much is for sure. 

“Will that be all, William Carter?” the Infiltrator asks. 

“For now. But don’t go far.”

The Infiltrator tilts his head sardonically towards Carter, acknowledging his guards. Carter heads for the door again. The knot in his stomach feels even tighter. The voice in his mind is nearer. He should have asked the Infiltrator what he meant by him ‘feeling’ the creature. 

He had been too scared.

He had gone in there for answers. But all the Infiltrator has done is raise more questions.

***

The word of the deaths of the agents below the infirmary has spread too quickly to keep a hold on it. The other two, along with Russo and Carradine, are Nicholls and Santos, and Alexis is right - it isn't pretty for them. Carter is there when the bodies are shifted up towards the morgue. The protective sheet dips sickeningly low around Santos’ stomach, and cannot hide the damage to Nicholls. Dresner peels the covers back and glances away in mute respect. Reflexively, he crosses himself. Most of Santos’ torso has been gouged out and now lays open like a grotesque punchbowl, swarming with dried blood and the tangle of his intestines. Nicholls’ head lolls back over the gurney and Carter has to lurch forward to catch it before it falls off completely.

There is nothing anyone can say about this mess. Faulke only looks to Carter and asks, “where are the other two agents from the infirmary?”

Carter sighs. “Gone.”

Gone. He doesn't hold out much hope for them. And neither does Faulke by the look on his face. 

That helpless desperation has poisoned the base. Parties are still being sent out in the attempt to follow the original plan, but it is like battling a phantom. Everyone has their own ghost story now. It’s in the walls. It’s on the ceiling. It’s in the mirrors. But it never stays long enough to do anything about it.

The ready room is perpetually swamped with people. Carter’s initial three-man scout into New York has infected the entire institute. On the wall, the KIA list is getting longer and longer. Soon, they will need to start hiring people to stand by it and add names all day. Russo and Carradine are there already, just below Evora, Lee and Lewis, and then Todd. Nicholls and Santos are being etched on there as Carter passes. He wonders how long it will be until Perry and Ventriss go there too, and the other two missing agents. 

That tangy odour of blood hits him once again. No matter what the hazmat cleaners have done, they can’t get rid of that smell. Dark splotches still stain the ceiling, like stubborn damp. Etienne at his side, Carter averts his eyes and eases through the crowd. He needs another squad to join him in the hangar. If the rogue damages what they have down there, they really will be screwed. 

“This whole institute, envisioned to combat alien threats, brought to its knees by one fucking rogue alien.”

A familiar voice breaks through the mass. Carter doesn’t even have to look to see who it is. But he comes through the crowd anyway, staring right at Carter. “Are you my greeting party, Percy?” Carter asks, having no time for this shit.

“All this mess,” the younger agent continues, “all because of one stupid mistake.”

“We’re here to undo that mistake, agent. What’s happened has happened.”

“You made that mistake, Carter! You wanted to save one man, and now how many are dead? You could have killed us all.”

“Remember yourself, agent. We’re equipped to -“

“What the fuck were you thinking, Carter? Agent Todd was infected! You knew it could be dangerous! What did you actually see in New York? Hey? What did you actually see?” Carter doesn’t answer. It’s best to let Percy shout himself out. He sees out of the corner of his eye that some people are trying to get back on with their work, but some cannot help staring. “You had to be the fucking hero again, Carter. Now we’re all paying the price. How many disciplinary charges were brought against you before, agent? Remind me. One? Two? Three? Four?”

“Three,” Carter humours him bitterly. Percy flounders briefly at his deadpan reply. 

“And they’re still listening to you,” he manages, digging harder. “I refuse to, Carter. I refuse to bow to your fucking guilt complex. Don’t punish us because of what happened to you.”

“Agent Percy,” someone warns from the crowd. Percy shakes his head, flushed with anger.

“Good men are gone. Because you’re trying to make up for something that had nothing to do with us. We were not there when your family died, Carter.”

Like they have just entered a vacuum, the entire room goes silent. Now, everyone has turned to watch. Even Carter cannot hide his shock that Percy has ploughed down this route. The memories tug at the corners of Carter’s mind where he has pushed them down. April 1960. Coming back to the US from a year of deep cover in Laos to not a single citation or congratulations.

Only, “I’m so sorry, Will.”

Half of his Arlington home burned to the ground. His wife, son and father trapped in there. They had been dead six months, and he had not known a single thing until that one hollow apology. Not enough time to mourn. Not enough time to say goodbye. Not enough time to do anything but stand by their memorials and feel a hundred miles away. He had been completely out of sync with everyone else’s grief.

Percy threatens to bring that repressed black cloud to the surface. He is back in the ready room, and all eyes are on him. “You’re out of line, agent,” he hears himself say. 

“I won’t follow you, Carter,” Percy repeats, backing away, as if to prove his point. “I don’t trust you. You’re not the same anymore. You’re just a washed-up, fucked-up -“

Percy is suddenly in the air. Before anyone can react, limbs have reached down from the ceiling and grasped him around the shoulders. He doesn’t even have time to yell as he is pulled into the vent. His legs kick wildly. In a second, he has disappeared.

The vent grille slams down onto the floor. The echo of it is deafening. Everyone freezes. 

Carter feels his stomach surge. It is only chased away by a sharp spike that zaps through his veins. In that instant, he knows.

It comes down in silence. As black as tar, it snakes out of the hole in the roof, long limbs coming first. A skeletal, dark body follows, uncoiling, a segmented, ribbed tail whipping around like a lethal snake. Strong legs anchor it to the ground. And then it starts to stand. It rises up and up and up, a smooth and cylindrical head towering above the stunned crowd. It has no eyes, no nose, just a razor-sharp mouth at the end of its skull that begins to open, dripping over the floor. Carter stares mutely up into bladed jaws. He feels as though it is staring right inside of him.

Time is still. For a moment, it is just him and the creature. He is back in those dreams he has been having. The alien dwarfs him. They can’t kill it. He can’t kill it.

The thing suddenly staggers. Green blood bursts from its shoulder as a bullet slams into it. Carter snaps into reality again. His men have fallen back, putting distance between themselves and the creature. In the panic, someone has fired before an order. “Stop!” Carter yells without knowing what he is saying. It is too late. The alien spins and releases a scream which shakes his bones. Its tail lashes and takes the guns from the hands of the men at the front. They scatter as the sharp point threatens to gut them. 

“Out!” Carter shouts. “Get the grenades! We’ll trap it!”

Some are already going for the exit. There are too many warm bodies here. Carter grabs a handful of agents and has them cover the retreat. The bullets spray about the creature, but even the ones that connect don’t bother it. It keeps coming, forcing its way into the crowd. Carter tries to keep his eyes on it. Spurts of blood and screams follow its path. “Ceasefire!” he cries. “You’ll hit the others! Agent Etienne, get these people out!”

Etienne, white with terror, nods and starts to direct people through the open doors. There are too many for the alien to get out. 

Carter clambers up onto the podium to get a better shot. Bodies are already beginning to litter the floor. The creature reaches into the heaving mass of prey and grabs one of the agents by the head. Its mouth opens. Carter fires and the thing’s skull snaps to the side. It screeches. It turns. 

Carter leaps off the podium, wondering what the hell he is doing. Just get his people out. Just keep this creature in here. It bursts from the crowd, spraying blood. “Etienne, go!” 

The rest of the agents are hurrying through the two sets of doors. One slams shut. His men are getting far enough away. The creature whips its head, wondering who to target. Carter sees his chance and runs for the open exit. Etienne and Templeton cover him and the remaining agents. He hears the wail of the alien behind him and the clattering as it upends tables and chairs. It reaches out for a marine at his side, and Carter yanks him away. The cut of its tail meant for the other man slices across his side. White-hot pain blinds him. He drops to his knees, vaguely hearing Etienne call, “commander!”

He scrambles over. The alien approaches. Heart hammering, Carter claws himself through the doors. Etienne and Templeton drag him the rest of the way. “Commander, you’re wounded -“

“Close the doors! Smoke this fucking bastard!”

The grenades he has ordered are thrown into the room. Etienne slams the doors shut, just as the creature smacks into the other side. Carter staggers to his feet, blood dribbling down his hip. A succession of loud booms shake the ground. 

He waits until there is absolute silence. Then, armed with Weir’s adapted pulse rifle, he eases back one of the doors. Alexis, Templeton and Etienne crowd near him. 

The ready room is empty. Beneath the slowly clearing smoke, the tables and podium and chairs have been scattered. The vent grille remains on the floor. 

A steady stream of blood drips from the open shaft above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My baby has arrived on the scene!!

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback always appreciated c:


End file.
